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therealpie02 · 2 months

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To catch a chance

Pairings: mafia!Yunho x fem!reader

Summary: You married a “golden retriever” in the mafia world. The most smiling and polite mafia boss, the most desirable son-in-law among all your friends. But he wasn't looking for intimacy with you. Warm on the outside, cool on the inside. You decided to destroy the barrier standing between you. All you had to do — get down on your knees.

Word count: 2,6k

Genre: smut 18+

Warnings: it’s just a fiction! soft dom!Yunho, best friends to lovers, nickname (princess), oral sex (m receiving), cream pie, fingering, unprotected sex, kind of breeding kink, dirty talk, aftercare, let me know if I missed something!

a/n: friendly reminder English isn’t my native language <3

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"I needed a decent match".

His words echoed in your head. He needed a decent match, not a wife.

Why did he choose you? You've been friends since childhood. Your first marriage was unsuccessful and you got divorced. Almost immediately after your divorce, Yunho married you. You're his wife. But he didn't touch you. As if he was afraid. You slept in the same bed. You kissed once under the crown at the wedding, didn't he want you? Is this marriage doomed to fail too?

It was after midnight, but you couldn't sleep. You dreamed of intimacy with Yunho, of his touch. You got out of bed and, without even bothering to put on a bathrobe, walked out of the bedroom into the dark hallway. At the end of the corridor, a light was streaming from under the door of your husband's office. You knocked and walked right in without waiting for an answer. You'll get everything you want tonight.

One unsuccessful marriage is enough, where the husband did not touch you, because he loved and fucked his maid. It's enough to be ignored by Yunho, your childhood friend and current husband. You loved him. But he?

Yunho was sitting in his chair at the table. His blond hair was tousled, as if he had run his hand through it many times. His jacket and vest were thrown on the sofa, the top two buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned, and the sleeves were rolled up, exposing strong arms. He didn't bother to take off his gun holster. Yunho was doing business on his laptop, looking tired.

"Is something wrong?" he looked up at you. His voice was hoarse and low, and that made you even more determined to distract him from his work and lure him upstairs to bedroom.

"I just wanted to ask when you're going to bed," you said as calmly as possible as you walked around the table and stopped next to his chair. Yunho leaned back and his eyes slid from your bare legs to your face. He was obviously attracted to your body, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"I have a lot of things that require special attention."

You nodded, reached for his laptop, and slammed it shut. Yunho raised his eyebrows.

"Y/n, I really need to..." he trailed off as you bent over him and slowly knelt down, wrapping your hands around his hips. You started massaging him, looking at him with your eyes wide open.

You saw how he struggled with himself. And he lost. Yunho relaxed in his chair and allowed himself to grin. You almost screamed with joy.

"Can't your job wait?"

Yunho's eyes darkened with desire. The bulge in his black trousers gradually grew as he looked at you, and you had to hide your smile. The most desirable groom wanted you.

"Do you want to offer me something?" He asked in a flat voice, trying to sound disinterested. The tight cock in his pants, of course, betrayed him treacherously. You covered his erection with your palm through the fabric.

"I do not know," you replied, continuing to massage him.

"I don't believe you," Yunho smiled grimly and wrapped his arms around your neck. He pressed his mouth against yours. You gasped in surprise, and his tongue slipped inside.

To put it mildly, you were a little confused about what happened. Your hand gently pulled him away from your face and pressed against his cheek.

"Why did you ignore me?!"you asked the question a little louder than you planned. But you had mixed feelings.

"In order for you to come to me yourself," he replied softly, and sadness flashed in his eyes. He took your hand in his and pressed it harder against your cheek.

"I've always wanted you to be there for me. Y/n, we've been together since we were kids. I wanted to be worthy to marry you. But in the pursuit of power, I lost the opportunity to be with you."

He talked about the time when he left the city to work and upgrade his status to boss. When you found out about your marriage in his absence. You didn't love your fiance, you rarely saw each other and talked at events, but your parents claimed that it was the best match for you. You thought over time you might have at least mutual respect, if not love, that you could work together on this marriage. If he hadn't trampled on everything with his actions, which you didn't intend to put up with.

"I didn't love him and you know it," you said, looking straight into his eyes.

"How was I supposed to know, Y/n? I didn't want to impose on you, in the end we got married because of my selfish desire to be with you." He stopped to reach your ear and whisper. "I didn't want you to belong to anyone else anymore. Only for me."

Your parents easily agreed to a second marriage, only to have you remarried.

So Yunho has wanted you all this time. How long ago? Damn it, you got mad and pushed his face away.

"You're a real asshole! I thought friendship was bothering you! Do you have any idea how much I've been thinking about you? That maybe you don't see me as a wife, only as a sister, a friend and a worthy match for yourself? Do you have any idea how angry and upset I was when on our wedding night you just lay down on the bed next to me?"

He just smirked at your outrage. It wasn't your good childhood friend, it's not a golden retriever in front of you now. Now he was a mafia boss and your husband.

"But look where you are now." He smiled with all his teeth, as if this was an ordinary friendly conversation. "You are kneeling in front of me and dreaming of my touch, this is a strong proof that you care about me. Isn't it a wonderful start for a new stage in our relationship?"

You took a shaky breath, wild desire had already taken over your mind and you couldn't think of anything else but Yunho and what he was going to do to you.

He pulled down the zipper and pulled out his hard cock. You gasped at his size. You couldn't wait to try him. And you wondered if he could fit inside you.

Yunho stroked cock several times, running his thumb over the head, already shiny with pre-cum, before circling your lips with it. It's like a confirmation that you're only his. You licked your lips, feeling his taste on you, biting your lips with lust, and Yunho sucked in a sharp breath.

"Y/n, don't tease me."

Leaning forward, you slowly licked his trunk from the base to the head before sticking your tongue into the small hole and tasting it. Yunho took you by the head and gently held you in place as you ran your tongue around his cock over and over again, deliberately barely touching, grinning in thought. The fingers in your hair twitched, and he gave you a little push forward.

"Suck my dick, princess" for the first time in many years, he called you by that nickname.

You confidently wrapped your lips around the head and began to suck, running your tongue around it. Yunho watched you through half-closed eyelids, massaging your scalp. You took it deeper and then started moving your head up and down. Judging by his reddened ears, he liked it. Yunho was staring at you. He began to swing his hips and tightened his grip on your hair as you sucked him faster.

"I'm close," he warned.

You didn't stop, and soon you felt Yunho's tension from the orgasm that engulfed him. His cock twitched and he poured into your mouth. You swallowed his cum while continuing to suck. Yunho moaned, and you held him in your mouth until he softened. Your own desire was throbbing deep inside you, just a little more and it would start dripping onto the floor.

He looked at you with bleary eyes and smiled. His hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to get to your feet with him. Yunho didn't leave a single centimeter of free space between you, he wanted to be as close to you as possible. You were embarrassed by his gaze and tried to avoid his eyes, but the fingers on your chin tightened.

"I'll never let you go again, Y/n, do you understand?" You nodded.

Your heart was racing from the sexual tension that was flying between you. His lips found yours, stopping your thoughts. His kiss became stronger, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you onto his desk. You squealed in surprise. Yunho sat your ass right on the edge and spread your legs. Your nightgown was pulled up and he could see how wet you were. He grinned as he pulled your underpants down.

"You won't need this anymore." His gaze settled on your pussy. His index finger began to tease you slightly before plunging into your wet cunt, drawing out your arousal.

You were trembling with excitement and moaned when he slid two long fingers into you. Your walls wrapped around him, squeezing your fingers in an iron grip. He started fucking you slowly and you grabbed his shirt. Yunho stared at your pleading face.

"Do you trust me, Y/n?" he pushed his fingers deeper, touching your sweet spot.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh my god Yunho." You could hardly think.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

"No, why should I be afraid?"

"Because I really want to fuck you so much that you can't walk for a week. Would you mind if I..."

Your wild and unbridled kiss interrupted him. There's never been a man you've wanted more than him. You trusted him with your secrets and desires as a child, you trusted him with your body and love now.

Yunho had enough of that to answer in order to lay you back on the table in the next second. The other hand lowered the straps of your nightgown, exposing your breasts and he pressed his lips to your nipple. You screamed and jerked your hips from the surging sensations of fingers inside you and a painful grip on your nipple. Yunho sucked your breast hard, playing with the nipple with his tongue, then biting with his teeth, which will surely leave traces.

"I've wanted to taste your boobs for so long, I can't wait for them to start pouring milk." he smiled the warmest smile in the world. Oh, damn it, everything inside you trembled from the need to cum after those words.

He enjoyed every part of your skin that he kissed and bit, enjoyed how your walls tightened around his fingers, how your ass arched over the table, enjoyed your flushed face and loud moans from orgasm.

You fell silent, feeling exhausted and sated. Yunho slowly pulled his fingers out of you, which made you feel cold on your skin. He unbuckled his holster and belt, the only thing holding his unbuttoned trousers. His reddened cock was hard and shiny.

You managed to sob before his hands lifted you off the table, turned you around and pushed you forward so that you leaned over the edge, your ass was baked out. Yunho slapped your ass hard, making you arch up with a stifled groan. His chest pressed against your back, his lips caught your earlobe.

"I don't think you're surprised by this pose, princess," you could have sworn you felt his satisfied smirk all over your body. And you could have laughed if you weren't too needy of his cock, so you could only mumble something incoherent.

He stroked your ass, his tip slowly parted your thighs until you felt him at your entrance. Yunho groaned, you felt how big he was inside your tight pussy and he needed a little diligence to move on. You were suffocating from the way he filled you completely,

"You're taking my dick so well, princess, just a little more." He kissed your shoulder soothingly.

With one sharp movement, Yunho plunged deep into you. You exhaled and gripped the edge of the countertop with your fingers, trying to hold on when Yunho began to pound into you. You gasped as he entered you deeper, making your nipples rub against the cold, smooth table.

"Fuck"

Yunho wrapped his hand around your chest, connecting your heated bodies while the other hand descended to your clit. He made a trail of kisses on your back, thrusting into you harder.

Your legs were seconds away from buckling from the impending orgasm. You groaned as you felt hot tears on your cheeks. It was too good. Before you could warn him, you cum, your walls clenched tightly around his cock. Yunho tensed behind you, he tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin almost painfully. He slammed into you and groaned low, his cock expanded inside you and you felt him fill you with his sperm. You could feel your pleasure flowing down your thighs.

Yunho leaned his whole body on you, leaving these kisses on your shoulder and neck while you tried to take a breath. When you regained your breath, Yunho slowly pulled his cock out of you and you trembled from the emptiness that formed. He picked you up in his arms and carried you to bedroom.

After carefully putting you in bed, he went into the bathroom to bring you a wet towel. Your husband gently wiped your thighs and pussy of cum. Your heart is filled with warmth. Yunho undressed and lay down next to you under the blanket facing you. His eyes were studying you intently. You smiled at him softly, touching his cheek with your hand.

"I'm fine," you kissed him gently on the lips. He moved even closer and wrapped his arm around you.

"Are you taking pills?" he whispered, as if he was afraid of the answer. You kissed him again. Yunho thought you were taking them, but…

"No," you could see something like pleasant surprise on his face.

"Do you want children?"

"Yes, I think I'm ready for them. So if we have a baby in 9 months, then it will be your fault too," you poked his chest with your finger. He laughed, and his laugh was the best sound in the world. His eyes filled with warmth. You lay on his chest, his hand traced patterns on back and waist.

"Do you remember when we were kids, we fantasized about growing up, saving up money and flying to Ecuador because we saw a beautiful package tour advertisement?" you nodded.

"I bought us tickets there, let it be our honeymoon destination." Yunho smiled at you and you smiled back at him.

"I love you, Y/n"

"I love you, Yunho"

"Are we like friends with benefits now?" you slapped him on the shoulder to get that stupid smirk off his face and he laughed out loud.

Unbearable. The same as before.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez yunho #ateez scenarios #jeong yunho #yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic

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spilledartery · 30 days

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tied hands . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, royalty ! au, angst, arranged marriage, implied sex, short. ]

gone are the days you two will sneak out to the palace gardens, to catch up, and enjoy each other’s presence, even if just for a few hours. gone are the days he will send you knowing stares and smirks, lingering touches and searing kisses in his study room, the library… gone are the days you’d climb up the palace walls to his room’s balcony, where you’d talk and gaze at the stars. “those stars,” you had said, “can never compare to your beauty.” then, he would blush, look down at his hands on the banisters, and bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

gone are the nights you’d spent next to each other in bed, sweaty, and naked under the covers. gone are those moments in which the two of you would bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking, his head on your chest, you holding him close to your side, just staring at nothing; comforted by the silence, but the beating of your hearts are just as loud – happy and content.

“i dream to start a family with you one day,” prince kunikuzushi had said, tracing circles upon your bare chest by his nimble fingers. “you know, just… little ones running around; i’d be papa, you’d be daddy…”

his ramblings had made you chuckle. “oh, what a dream.” you turned your head to kiss at the crown of his head. “i would love that, beloved.”

he hummed, tilting his head to look up at you to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

it was, indeed, just a dream.

kunikuzushi, repressing all of his emotions, slowly walked down the aisle, wearing the most beautiful white attire you had said you’d love to see him in one day.

kunikuzushi is so beautiful in all aspect. his long, indigo hair was let down. but his eyes… his eyes were dim, and full of protests that went unsaid, for you are not the one at the end of the aisle.

“but… but i love you – not… not — !”

“my darling beloved,” you said, cupping his tearful cheeks delicately, “please don’t cry. i don’t deserve your tears.”

he sobbed, then. placing his hands on your chest to clench at the cheap fabric of your shirt. you could only gently place your hands on his waist to ground him. “w-why are you so unaffected by this?” asked kunikuzushi, his mind heading the wrong way. “why do you seem so calm?! i – i am to be married off, and here you are, effacing yourself!”

you had the mind to fight for him, to kneel at the queen’s feet just to wish for her son’s hand – for it to be you, instead. but you know that it would bring more trouble. the queen had already found out of kunikuzushi’s affair with a commoner; you. she didn’t approve. her son has to marry someone of the same status, of the same nobility – not some random farmer of the kingdom, no. she had higher plans for the prince.

“my love, from the start, i’ve always known that we are doomed. this is of no surprise to me,” you said, cradling his head gently as he continued to cry to your chest. “but do not, even for once, think that i do not care – that i am not affected. i love you dearly, and i would rather die than seeing you be in another’s arms, but i understand this, prince, and so should you.”

“let’s run away,” said kunikuzushi without second thoughts, looking up at you with a hopeful gaze. “w-we can escape this place, please.” his sobbing had gone uncontrollable now to the the point that he’s trembling violently in your arms because of the disapproving look you gave him. “please…”

“and risk us being hunted? i wouldn’t want to bring you in danger — ”

“fuck! just — ! just listen to me!” he sounded desperate now. “i love you… please…”

instead of replying to him, you had just leaned down and kissed his lips, which he returned fiercely and tearfully. you had spent your last night together, then. and when he wakes up in the morning due to the rapping of the maids at his door, ordering him to wake up because today is his wedding, you were gone.

that night, instead of spending his wedding night with his spouse, he stood at his room’s balcony, hoping that you’d climb up the walls; to kiss him and stargaze, like you always did.

but gone are those times.

kunikuzushi cried for the millionth time to himself, wishing that the circumstances had been different.

#[ lost stories . . . ]#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x top male reader #male reader #kunikuzushi x male reader #kunikuzushi x reader #angst #top male reader

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whumpdoyoumean · 1 year

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Could you explain the White Shirt of Doom from the bracket?

White Shirt of Doom is basically any time a white shirt gets bloody! Often paired with a dramatic injury reveal (my favorite), like this scene from Daredevil!

Or this one from Batman Begins (sorry I couldn't find a gif)!

#white shirt of doom #ask #answered ask #daredevil #batman begins #blood #whump march madness

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Text

Things We Deserve

Summary: Astarion re-lives one of the traumatic episodes of his life, and considers himself unworthy of love.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, f!tav, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

TW: a mild description of forced prostitution

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @satanicspinosaurus for your help! I live for your commentaries on ethical issues.

It is on the same corner of the street in the Lower City. Again.

A young elf is looking for a “client”. It's not difficult — he has soft white curls, a gentle smile, the body sculptured by some elven god. A glance, two, some nice words — and there is a night of passion ahead.

A half-orc, almost twice as big as the elf, grabs his chin and studies his face as if Astarion is an inanimate object. Then orders to lift up his shirt. The client looks at him with the same expression as if he were buying a horse.

His hand gropes the elf’s crotch, causing him to moan.

"Works for me", the half-orc grabs a handful of silver curls with his stiff fingers. "Never fucked an elf".

Astarion obeys. This is what he is. A mere street whore.

No, go away, you don't need to do that anymore. You are free, don't let him touch you!

Astarion knows what will come next. Two half-orcs, who despise and hate elves to their guts will really enjoy having one for themselves for the whole night.

They’ll give him pain. Disgust. Burning touches.

"Entertain us, elf", the half-orc groans pressing the Astarion’s face into the pillow.

Here’s a joke: the elf wants to die. Sadly, he is already dead. And that's his life now. Forever.

Beatings. Non-consensual sex. Or consensual? Is this what he wants? He never says “no”, after all.

I want you all to burn down, Astarion thinks spreading his legs. I want you to suffer as much as I do!

The half-orcs never give him a chance to drag them to the Cazador’s mansion. They won't die. They won't suffer. They use Astarion and then leave. A small sack of silver breaks when it is thrown on the floor.

And Astarion will have to deal with his sore body and numb mind. Forcing himself to get someone else inside the brothel, knowing too well that he is already doomed for torture because he hasn’t returned on time. Even if he delivers the most innocent and beautiful virgin to Cazador, he will be punished anyway.

Flayed with a razor. What? He is a vampire. He will regenerate.

Astarion opens his eyes and finds himself on the floor.

Where is he?

It's not a brothel. More like an Inn?

Reality slips back into his mind, replacing the awful visions of the past.

It wasn't real. Of course, it wasn't.

He doesn't have to sell his body anymore. He doesn’t have to sleep with people he doesn't like and want. He won't be beaten for saying “no”. He even has the luxury to say “no” to Tav, the only person whose body he enjoys.

But two hundred years of memories are too vivid. Tortures. Humiliation. Misery. Forced prostitution. He had to do the most disgusting things on his master's whims, and Astarion is afraid nothing will ever wash it away.

The flood of darkness flushes his brain again. Astarion rises up on his knees as if in a desperate prayer.

Why him?

Why did it happen to him?

His life was stolen. His personality, his future, his past. All was brutally taken away along with his beating heart.

Leaving only pain and disgust.

Tears burn his skin. The scars hurt as if they are still fresh and bleeding.

He was stripped away of everything. Of freedom. Of dignity. Of his own self-respect.

The person he could have become. The future he could have embraced.

Why?

Why?!

He digs his nail deep into his skin as if trying to peel it off. He is a vampire. It will regenerate.

Touches. The smell of unwashed bodies. Movements inside him. The fake pleasure. Pain. Always — pain. Either physical or mental, but often both.

He clenches his fists and groans like a wounded animal.

"Astarion"

A gentle voice resonates with his broken thoughts.

“Astarion, are you with me?”

He looks up and sees Tav. She sits in front of him. Concerned face. Worried eyes. She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to touch him. Like he's a person.

Like he's worth something.

Like he's broken and she needs to be careful.

"Oh, hello, darling", the mask is on again. "I am sorry. I've been carried away a bit. Tell me how was your day in the sunlight."

Tav sighs. “Astarion, I returned an hour ago. And you’ve been like that all this time.”

"Darling, you could just call me over”, Astarion smiles.

"I have done it five times."

“Oh. Then … “

“Astarion, I know when your smile is sincere and when it’s not. Don’t force yourself.”

He stops and sits back.

“May I touch you?”, she asks.

He nods. The caress sends a shiver down his spine and Astarion flinches avoiding looking at Tav.

He remembers. Again, and again. Never-ending tortures disguised as pleasures. Things he would have never done voluntarily. The dirt on his skin. The poison on his tongue.

Astarion wants to hide. He wants to disappear. He wants to run away.

Tav crawls closer to him to hold him in her hands.

He shivers.

“Hush, I am here. Tell me what is plaguing you.”

He almost orders himself to relax. Tav is here. Tav loves him. Tav doesn’t judge. Whatever he tells her, she won’t get angry. She won’t hurt him. She won’t punish him. Tav won’t use him for sex and pleasure. It will never happen no matter what he does.

He can run away. He can say “no”. He can fight back.

"Just a memory of a certain night in the lower town. A night of... what I usually was supposed to do. I...” the words stuck in his throat. “I am tainting you, Tav. I am ruining you.”

"Stop", Tav puts her chin on his shoulder nuzzling his collarbone.

"I am a terrible person, Tav. I truly am. It all happened to me and I sometimes think what a terrible person I used to be if I inflicted it all upon myself.”

Instead of answering, Tav holds him tighter as if not to not allow him to drown in dark waters.

"Do you remember anything from your past life?"

"No"

"Then why do you think you were a bad person?”

“Because — … “

He doesn’t know the answer. A corrupt magistrate who would easily ruin people’s lives. An arrogant racist who hated everyone who didn’t belong to the pure fairy kin.

But was it true?

“Listen, Astarion. I won’t pretend I know what you were like back then. I won’t lie by saying I know why it happened to you. But everything you “know” about your past life comes from Cazador. What if it was just another of his tortures? He wanted you to believe you were a bad person. He wanted you to think you were guilty. I know that type. It’s a special pleasure for them to torture good people. He — “

“Made me a street whore.”

He spits the last word. Yes, that is what he was all these years. He can mask it all with fancy words. Conquests, lovers, seduction. When it was just abuse.

Words spill out of him.

"Sometimes I wasn’t even supposed to drag anyone to the mansion. It was more like retrieving information by doing the only thing I knew how to do well. Sometimes it was an order to pleasure someone - as a reward for them. Sometimes it was just pointless. Just one more thing to break me even more.”

"You say like you did it of your own free will", she says.

"I-"

"You did it because you were like a puppet. Because it was impossible to say “no”. The moment you set yourself free, you stopped doing that."

"And the first thing I did was seduce you!”

She cups his face and kisses his forehead. It causes another flow of tears.

“I have my own free will, too,” she says. “Do you think I would sleep with you if I didn’t want to? I am not the person who hooks up with men in brothels and I am not the person who would enjoy a sentient trophy to fuck. It’s not normal to find people on streets and treat them like objects.”

Tav cradles him in her arms. Astarion’s muscles are still tense. He can’t do anything about that. Maybe, if Tav leaves him for a moment, he will find a way to relax but the mere thought of staying alone scares him.

She kisses him. Saying all the sweet words she knows to soothe his worries.

"I have an idea," she finally says. “Could you lie on your stomach?"

“What for?”

Tav kisses his neck.

"Please?"

He is trying to lie on the floor but Tav stops him.

“On the bed.”

He hesitates but agrees. Astarion puts his hands under his cheek. His bare back is exposed and it causes him to clench his fists again.

“I will stop if you feel uncomfortable, love. Just tell me and I will stop”

He nods. Tav saddles him with her hips and presses hands on his ribs.

“Can I touch your scars?”

“Yes.”

Tav presses arms into his skin causing a pleasant pressure. The fingers massage his back but there is nothing sexual about it. It's not a premise, not a prelude. It will lead to nothing. He won’t have to pay back.

The hands massage his back, strongly and gently.

"You have beautiful hands”, Tav murmurs. “They can do so many things —”

Yes, he thinks darkly, bringing pleasure mostly.

“They can sew, embroider. Pick up lockers. Steal pretty things. I like watching you doing tricks with coins. Can’t take my eyes off. Speaking of which… ”

Tav touches his curls.

“You have incredible eyes. Crimson red – “

The color of blood.

“The color of wine”, Tav proceeds. “You are always vigilant, like a cat on a hunt. You notice small details and see things I don’t.”

Tav moves a bit to be able to press a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You are so smart. You know so many things.” She gently touches his right ear. “I love your ears and how they peek out of your hair. They are so adorable especially when they twitch a bit, reacting to sounds or to your jaw movements.”

She keeps talking to him, massaging his back. The words of reassurance, of love, sound like a prayer. The touches and kisses cover his skin like a healing ointment.

Astarion feels protected. Loved.

And then it’s just too much.

He bursts into tears. Desperate, painful. Tears rip his chest apart causing pain in the throat.

Tav stops and gets off him allowing him to lay on his back.

“Astarion… Did I hurt you?”

He wants to say something but he can’t. He cries like a child abandoned in the streets. Cries like he did many years ago when the first tortures were inflicted upon him. When he realized no one would save him. That the Gods were silent and merciless.

“Astarion…”

All the darkness he has in his heart is spilling through the tears. They wash away the pain and disgust like rain washes dirt in the Lower City.

With effort he pulls Tav to him pressing her to his chest. She wraps her hands around him.

“Thank you”, he mutters through tears.

They sit like that for an eternity. Astarion listens to Tav’s heartbeat and breathing. He remembers her first reaction to his stories – anger. Pure, livid anger. Anger to people who did this to him. Not only Cazador but everyone who treated him like an object. And sorrow – she mourned his past along with him.

She is his happiness. The happiness he has never considered worthy of. He has found it with her. And he will be forever grateful for her patience and care.

“Tav?”, he whispers but she doesn’t reply. He pulls away a bit and sees she is asleep.

Astarion chuckles and helps Tav to lie on the bed beside him. He tucks her into the blanket and makes sure she lies on the dry side of the pillow (not the section damp with his tears).

And then, he begins whispering words like a prayer.

Thank you. Thank you for existing.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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simplydnp · 1 month

Text

WAD: Cover Art

dan is still working on selling the distribution rights for We're All Doomed! so i decided to make some DVD/Blu-ray disc jacket art!

this is my attempt at a traditional jacket design! none of the images used are mine, but i did create the concept and design:

as i was making the first one for myself, i was struck by the fact that 'well, it's for me, so it doesn't have to look like a stereotypical jacket cover' which led me to be more artsy in my approach for the next one:

i was really enjoying the creativity and space to explore, so i went looking for more inspiration for a third design. this led me to dan's favourite Muse album: Origin of Symmetry, which i paid homage to:

after the first Muse album, i looked at their catalogue to see if there was more inspiration there. i was just thankful dan's favourite was easy stylistically to mimic, unlike say, 2009's The Resistance...

thank you @danielhowell for the inspiration!

nerdy stuff & reference pics below the cut!

General notes

i don't know how to use photoshop! i entirely brute-forced my way through the whole project, and the only tutorial i looked up was for the gradient text in the 4th cover

this wasn't even the original project i was working on! you'll eventually get to see that though

and this one also inspired art for the disc itself so stay tuned 👀

i will do anything for authenticity so these are Full of intentional details

matching fonts is a nightmare

the traditional cover

took the longest, as it was the first.

the barcode numbers are the date of the first video he uploaded on dinof, and the last tour show date (in m/d/y)

i changed 'iceland' to 'poland' on the front cover, as he never actually went to iceland, and poland wasn't ever on the list even though he did go there

the orange may look a little off-center in the front, but these designs need to include space for a spine between the front and back cover, i promise it's right 😂

the black and white cover

inspired by the 'i want to believe' aliens poster

the cover art comes from his metal band merch shirt design

i had to manually shrink the text, line by line, and ensure it all lined up on the back!

i even made the logos on the back greyscale

the Muse: Origin of Symmetry cover

a shockingly perfect style for a WAD cover. i'm so glad i used the cubes, even if they couldn't be orange.

there's some versions of the art online where the sky is even more orange and it baffles me how i haven't seen any parallels like this before

the Muse: The Resistance cover

this cover was never supposed to see the light of day! i meant it when i said i was grateful i didn't have to try to adapt this complex design... and yet, i tried anyway.

i did all the grid lines by hand, including the jagged/broken edge parts, shading each section, and then drawing every star.

the hardest part was getting the gradient on the back text to cooperate. photoshop's gradient settings are surprisingly limited

gotta shout out @amazingphil for being the reason i knew what this cover looked like--it's the only muse album i knew the art of before embarking on this quest!

obligatory sob story:

i've been extremely and suddenly ill for 6 months. it is difficult to function moment to moment, but especially in doing little things just for me. this is the first and only art project i've been able to feel inspired to not only work on, but to finish, and despite the pain and long hours, i enjoyed every minute of it. thank you, dan, for creating this space for me to explore, and thank you, everyone here, for being wonderful support during this time 💞

#it's finally here!! i hope you all love them as much as i do #dnp #c.text #dan and phil #daniel howell #phan art #hey phil look at this #we're all doomed #wad #c.art #word

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writersblockiskillingme · 5 months

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peace was so good :,) could you write about swimming with corio in the lake?

The Lakes | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You spend your time with Coryo at the lake in the woods as the sun sets down.

Warning/s: fluff, Coriolanus in love, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: This one is extremely short and I changed some things, but I hope you still like it.

Soft, green grass brushed against your legs as you walked through the Meadow to get to a lake in a hidden spot outside of District 12.

The rough plants with pointy ends were brushing against your legs lightly scratching you, but you tried to pay it no mind as you tear your way through to get to the lake.

After a while you reached your destination as you came to a sudden stop. The sun was slowly setting down as you stared ahead into the distance, but it was still covering the entire Meadow giving the flowers and the lake a gorgeous shimmer making it seem like this sight is eternal.

For a moment you allowed yourself to close your eyes, enjoying the short, but somehow everlasting peace, that you got while you waited for him to come to you.

You didn't have to wait long.

All of a sudden a pair of strong yet comforting arms wrapped around you giving you a sense of protection yet you couldn't help but to let out a quiet shriek at the sudden feeling, quickly opening your eyes and turning around to look at him.

Coriolanus was already watching you, his eyes full of love for you. He revealed in the way that the wind was lightly carrying your beautiful hair around just like the sundress you wore on a weirdly warm day.

Your smile was infectious, he couldn't help but to return it as he showed you the happiness that he felt at that moment.

"Let's go and swim in the lake." You suggested as you stepped away, trying to get rid of the sundress that you wore, tossing it aside.

Coriolanus gave you a boyish smile as he started to take of his white shirt and his gray pants, agreeing with your offer to cool of.

He returned the joyous laugh that you gave him as he ran after you towards the edge of the lake, his dog tag dangling around his neck as he did that.

You two soon found yourself in the cool lake swimming towards each other. Coriolanus wrapped his arms around your chest as he slowly brought you closer to him, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours as he did that.

He slowly glazed his hand on your cheek before moving it onto your neck to bring you closer colliding your lips together while being in a warm embrace.

You both soked up moments like these as much as you could. Giving each other the sense of comfort, protection and love.

Coriolanus never thought that anything like this was ever going to happen to him, and even if it did he wasn't so sure that he could love anyone this much who was worth risking everything in his life once again for.

The moment he met you, he knew something changed. He fell hard, but he knew the risks.

The Peacekeepers weren't supposed to be romantically involved with anyone during their time of service.

He knew very well that if anyone catches your longing glances that you were sanding to each other across the room, if anyone saw you talking to each other a little to close for comfort or if anyone saw you two spending a lot more time with each other than necessary, let alone see you holding hands or kissing you would be doomed.

If anyone noticed how you both lose your breath every time you looked into each other's eyes it would be all over for you both.

They could deport him to another District or fire him from his service. You could've been severely punished. Hell, they could kill you both, hang you on the hanging tree or just shoot you on sight.

But as you two held each other in the comforting silence that only comes when two people understand each other and as you exchanged the words that confirmed your love for each other and as you exchanged a billion kisses, he knew that it was all worth it.

You were worth it, and after a long time he came to a conclusion that he maybe deserves your endless love and comfort that you brought him every day.

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

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moonchildstyles · 6 months

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oleander

oleander part one: nothing could draw y/n in the way harry could

wordcount: 11.7k+

cw: this leans into some darker themes including a description of a dead body, mentions of a parent who has passed away, some panic attack descriptions, and just in general some doom and gloom vibes! but I promise this is a love story im just doing something diferent!

—————

(Y/N)'s eyes followed the immaculately dressed figure floating through the shop. Barred from getting closer with the counter in front of her, she could only watch as he made his way through the small apothecary. He never glanced in her direction, though she doubted he was unaware of her eyes on him.

Dried herbs hung around his head like a dreary halo, the muted tones falling in line with the rich brown of his hair. He was tall enough that he just barely grazed the line of lavender sprigs strung up and dehydrating above his head. His coat was of a deep green velvet, tailored to show off the broad of his shoulders and strength of his arms. The matching cravat around his neck stood out starkly against the white shirt under his grey waistcoat, his skin appearing almost as pale as the starchy collar standing stiff against his throat. She wished that he would turn around for just a second; she wanted to see his eyes. Were they really as dark as she remembered, or had the town's gossip altered her memory?

As if hearing her thoughts, he quickly picked his head up and made to turn and match her gaze. She urgently dropped her eyes to her hands, pretending as if she had been preoccupied the whole time by the bundles of sage she was meant to be tying. Now her wishes turned to that of hoping he didn't catch her staring. She was sure he got enough of that as is when he bothered to venture down to their small village; he didn't need any more when he was simply trying to shop.

Forcing herself to keep her eyes down, (Y/N) tried to forget the Count's presence (was he even a Count? She wasn't sure, but that was what she had heard the women at church calling him, and no one seemed to object). She hoped he couldn't hear the sound of her heart as easily as she could, the beats pounding through her ears just from the fact she knew he was traipsing around her father's shop. Casting her gaze out the small window situated by the collection counter, she tried to see past the thick fog that had gathered that morning and done little to dissipate through the hours. If not for the fact she had lived here all her life, she would have had problems navigating through the mist. She wondered how someone like the Count fared under these conditions. He barely left that castle of his, how did he or his footmen know where they were going this time of year?

Granting herself a single peek in his direction, she saw he had gone back to shopping. He moved so silently, she wondered how he was able to cross the apothecary so vastly without a single footstep being heard. She watched as he brought bundles of herbs to his nose, taking in the heady scent. He always did this, she noticed. He always looked around until he found the strongest smelling bundles.

Truthfully, to (Y/N), all the bundles smelled the same. She couldn't notice if one sprig of lavender smelled richer than another, but maybe he knew something she didn't. It wouldn't surprise her if he spent his young years studying herbs and reading books about all of the healing plants, or whatever it was that young gentlemen did in their formative years.

Though it was a hard task to pull her eyes away from him, (Y/N) made the effort to do so. Her father really would be upset if she didn't tie up all these bundles before sundown; he barely liked her working at the apothecary as is, he didn't need any other reason to boot her from the counter.

With her eyes trained on her fingers and the clumsy bows she was tying out of twine, (Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Pale hands dropped bundles of herbs on the counter, just barely in her line of sight. Her breathing stuck in her throat when she whipped her head up, finding the Count looking at her with his dark eyes.

She hadn't misremembered, it appeared. His eyes really were almost black, just barely tinted a forest green on the edges—if the forest in question was being spotted in the pitch of night, only a sliver of the moon and stars above allowing any distinction.

Her heart jumped in her throat, running faster than it had any reason to when their eyes met. She forced herself to swallow it down.

"I'm sorry, sir," she muttered, unable to pull her gaze away from his even if she instinctively wanted to look anywhere else. "Did you find all you were looking for?"

"I did, yes." His voice was a lulling rumble, rounded and heady as if the goal was to lure her nearer. If not for the table separating them, she would have fallen for it.

Offering a quiet smile, she gave him a polite nod.

No other words were exchange, as per usual for his visits. The Count wasn't much for conversation and idle chatter like the rest of the village. Instead, she could feel him watching her as she counted up his herbs and the price of each bundle.

He was buying the same ones he always did: winter savory (he switched to chamomile when out of season), tobacco, and lavender.

The buds together created a confusing scent, adding to the mishmash of what the apothecary already was. She couldn't imagine how he would put these three together in any space of that castle, the mixture too aggressive.

Though she tried her best to concentrate on only the herbs, (Y/N) was too aware of the static of his presence. She wondered what he thought when he came down to the village, what he thought when he interacted with people like her. He was always so stoic. He never gave anything away, though that didn't stop the village gossip from running wild about him.

Swallowing around her dry throat, heartbeat bubbling against her ribs, she matched his gaze. The pricing for his bounty came out on buzzing lips, "Sixteen shillings please, sir."

He didn't bat an eyelash at the price despite it being the biggest single purchase her father's apothecary would see until the next time he ventured down. Instead, he looked at her with his dark eyes and a tic in his jaw. He was unbearably handsome, made of cut edges and smooth planes, but he always looked at her as if he were angry and working to bury it down. She could never figure out why or what exactly made his nostrils flare or his jaw tight when he spoke to her, but she hoped she wasn't the only one he reacted to like this.

His hands moved quickly, pulling out a small pouch of tinkling coins before he plucked out the exact amount for her. For a moment, she could see bank notes tucked inside the pouch as well. While she wasn't surprised that someone like him would have that kind of wealth, she had never seen it before with her own eyes.

Passing off the change to her, his pale fingers grazed her open palm. Goosebumps immediately raised across her skin, his touch feeling as if he had been standing in the dawn's dew for hours, allowing the chill to cling to his skin and leach away all hope for warmth. The graze was quick, barely a heartbeat long, but she swore she could feel the lingering touch for moments after. Maybe he really did have a hard time navigating the village when the fog was this thick, having traveled in winding routes and wrong turns for so long he still hadn't been able to heat up even after spending time in the shop.

Flicking her gaze up to his on instinct, she saw he was looking at the swatches of skin exposed from her dress, eyeing the goosebumps he had plucked up on accident.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, nothing more than a reminder to herself to keep professional and not to gawk at the man. She placed the change in the small cup underneath the collection counter before reaching for his herbs of choice. A length of twine was used to tie up his product, ensuring he didn't lose anything on his way back home.

"Thank you," he muttered once she passed them back, their skin no longer grazing this time.

"Have a pleasant journey back home," she chirped, her voice decidedly pleasant against the bubbling she was feeling inside, "Stay warm."

The Count didn't give any kind of reaction to her before he was leaving the shop in a flourish. Taking advantage of the window at her disposal, she watched as he ventured out into the fog. The mist mingled around him, making him appear as if he were a ghost—one with the Earth-bound clouds. She was only vaguely aware of the way her body heat ticked up some now that he had left.

Though she could hear the sound of footsteps descending the stairs that led up to their home a floor above, (Y/N)'s head was outside the shop and away from her father. She didn't turn even when she could tell he had made it to the landing. He was used to it by now, she knew. Her head was always miles away as far as he was concerned—thinking too big for the village with daydreams that were only going to hurt her in the long run.

The air around her shifted, telling her that her father was just behind her, likely watching to see what had caught her attention this time.

"Is that Harry?" he grumbled, spitting out the name while dismissing the faux-title since they were alone.

Her father didn't much like the Count—Harry, as he bitterly spat out. (Y/N) was never sure what precisely had set off her father's distaste for the man, just knowing that he thought Harry to be something of a boogeyman against the village. He didn't even go to church, her father regularly complained. What kind of man was he if he couldn't even bother to trudge down from his palace to spend some time with God, even if it was in the presence of commoners?

(Y/N) never really minded. Though she'd never tell her father, church was boring. She couldn't blame Harry—the Count, whatever she was supposed to call him—for skipping out. Especially with the peeks at the castle she could garner if she trekked through the woods far enough. She wouldn't want to leave that place for anything.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) answered with a soft, "Yes." Her eyes were still locked on the form of him she could barely make out through the mist.

A grunt of disapproval left her father's lips. She didn't have to look at him to know that he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you okay?"

It was when he settled a hand on her shoulder that she snapped out of her staring.

"Yes, I'm well," she answered as placidly as possible when she turned to face him. She didn't want to show just how affected she was by the Count. Her father would do more than just grunt and disapprove if he knew just how drawn to the man as she was.

He peered through the window, his eyes surely finding the one dark figure filtering through the fog. His brows slanted into harsh slashes over his eyes. "From now on, I want you to find me when he comes in, and I will take over. I do not want him talking with you."

Her fingertips buzzed at the new instructions, matching the kickstart to her heartbeats. As much as she heard her father's concerns, and had listened in to all the of the stories and webs spun about this man, those did little to deter her interest in Harry or quell the bubbling in her chest every time she saw him step inside the apothecary.

"I can handle him, father," she countered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible while attempting to hold her ground, "We barely talk when he comes in, anyway."

The creases between his brows only deepened when he matched her gaze. "I do not want you becoming one of his victims, (Y/N)."

Her lips thinned at his words. "All of those stories are rubbish, father, you know that," she pressed, her words lighthearted despite the argument she was wagering by not immediately giving in, "Since when have we started listening to what Mary and Ethel have to say?"

He didn't break any, even when she knew she was making a valid point to him. Gossip was prohibited according to the Bible, and yet he was citing stories she had heard the worst of gossipers weave?

There was no real reason for anyone to believe that Harry had anything to do with what had been going on just outside of the village, he was just easy to pin it on seeing as no one really knew him. She doubted any of them—including Ethel and Mary—could actually believe that he was the one behind the bodies that had been found in the woods, and the disappearances that had been added to the murder count.

From what she'd heard, all signs pointed to animal attacks—wolves, or bears, or anything viscous. Though her stomach curdled at the thought, she couldn't see the Count being the one to rip out commoner's throats, to leave them crumpled in the brush with blood sinking into the earth. All of it was gossip and evil rumors that had not even a shred of truth inside.

"Still," her father stated, countering her argument, "There's something wrong with him, (Y/N)."

Wrong was very far from threatening as far as she was concerned, especially when it came to Harry. Though, this most likely wasn't the time to share that opinion. She would keep her thoughts about him to herself, her own small secret against the rest of the village.

Harry didn't scare her like he did the rest of them, but they didn't need to know that.

"Okay," she relented with a quiet nod, turning back to the collection cup so she could pass off the earnings to her father. "I will come grab you next time."

(Y/N) wasn't sure if it was the additional shillings added to the cup or her pleasant agreement that had her father's features relaxing with a small smile on his lips, but she wasn't going to object.

Besides, she wasn't going to actually follow through on her promise. Harry was her favorite customer, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. Her father would have to try harder to steer her clear of Harry.

—————

(Y/N) struggled with the strap of her shopping baskets, one hanging from her shoulder over her back with another dangling from her hand. They were stocked full and heavy, filled with everything her father requested that morning before she was sent off. She hadn't even realized how late she was running with her errands, how many items she had picked up and how heavy her bags were becoming until the sun had already gone down and her shoulder ached with the amount she had packed in.

With the season's change, the sky was almost pitch by the time she made it to the edge of the village, the air chilled and crisp. Her father was going to have her head for making it back so late, but what could he have expected, really? He was the one that wrote the list, knowing half of the items were only available in the neighboring village.

She hummed as she followed the path, giving herself some company and filling the silence. She hated being out this late—the dark scared her more than it probably should at her age.

Her steps slowed as the bag hanging from her shoulder once again began to shift. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't stay put. She attempted to adjust the strap once more as she cautiously stepped over the path.

With her attention placed elsewhere, she didn't notice the man in her way until she bumped directly into him.

Her heart started in her chest, rattling against her ribs. She jumped back, whipping her head up with wide eyes. Before her stood the familiar dark-haired figure she had seen just a week prior, pursuing through the apothecary.

Harry's cut features were pinched with a furrowed brow, his dark eyes trained on her. He was pale like a ghost compared to his dark clothing that blended in with the rest of the night. He reached out to steady her, baskets and all, when she tottered on the low heel of her boot.

His touch singed her like snowflakes as he grasped at her bare arms.

"H-Harry," she gasped, his name falling from her lips before she had a chance to collect her bearings. Her skin warmed when her brain caught up with herself; she'd never called him by his name before—or called to him at all now that she thought about it. "I am so s-sorry."

What exactly she was apologizing for—using his name so brashly or running right into him—she wasn't sure, but she could cover for both, she figured.

"It is alright," he murmured to her, his hands lingering on her biceps, "I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she asserted, "I wasn't looking where I was going. It has been a long day."

Tipping his head, as if her word wasn't enough, Harry looked her over before dropping his hands from her arms and taking a calculated step back.

"I'm sure it was," he said to her, his voice still a low whisper, "Is what why you are out so late?"

(Y/N) eased into the conversation, despite knowing it was more than a little inappropriate to be alone with a man this late into the evening. She was flattered the Count wanted to speak to her at all, honestly. He always seemed so eager to flee from the apothecary and the rest of the village during his visits. In her dreamland, she liked to think that he actually enjoyed seeing her, this run-in being his opportunity to speak to her without all of the prying eyes trained on him.

"Yes," she sighed, shifting the small basket on her aching wrist to the other, "I had to do the shopping today, and my father always requests things he knows I have to search all over for, so I've been busy since I woke up."

Harry hummed at her words, his dark eyes seemingly lighting up with amusement at her trivial complaint. He eyed the heavy bags she was carrying before he met her eyes once more. "Would it be alright if I accompany you back home? It's too dark for a lady like yourself to be walking alone."

Biting back a smile, (Y/N) felt her blood warm under her skin. Someone of his status would know a lady when he looked at one, and (Y/N) definitely wasn't. He had to be teasing her.

"I'm no lady," she explained, though she didn't sound that convincing under her smile, "But, I think I would really enjoy some company. Thank you."

(Y/N) was well aware of what it would look like to be walked home by Harry at this time of night, alone on the path and unchaperoned. It would have been bad enough with any man, but seeing as this was the Count, she could only imagine the kinds of rumors Mary and Ethel would spin. The fluttering in her heart urged her to ignore those worries, though; Harry most likely knew better about societal standards than she, given their stations, and he had enough rumors swirling about him that he wouldn't want to add to if he could help it. If he wasn't worried, then she wouldn't either.

"Lead the way," he said, smiling at her with dazzlingly perfect teeth.

"Its not too far," she started, peering down the path to see the late night tavern still boiling with people and the small homes that decorated the mouth to the village. "It's just down that way," she told him, nodding her head in the direction they were to take.

Before she went too far, she adjusted her grocery-laden baskets once more, barely holding back a wince at the weight on her shoulder.

Harry still seemingly noticed even if she had tried to be discreet. He didn't immediately follow her steps back home. "Let me carry those for you. They can't be too comfortable after such a long day."

While she was sure it was good form to decline his offer, feign strength she didn't have and continue on without complaint, she wasn't going to pass up on the offer to relieve the stress on her shoulder.

"I would really appreciate that, actually," she sighed, shifting the basket off her shoulder in a haste, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he answered simply, a pleasant lightness to his features as he took the strap from her hands. He slung it over his own shoulder with an ease (Y/N) could only dream to have. He didn't stop there, taking the smaller one from her wrist as well.

She was free to roll her joints and feel circulation return to all limbs, more than gracious for her impromptu partner for the night.

"You said it was this way, yes?" he prompted, starting down the path towards the edge of town where both the apothecary was as well as the flat above it where she and her father resided.

"That way," (Y/N) affirmed with a smile, falling into step beside him as they started off through town.

A careful silence fell between them, full of opportunities that twinkled like stars. This was her chance to know him, bask in his presence, learn who she had only gazed at from afar. Though every time she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she felt her throat dry. He was even more gorgeous under moonlight.

"You know," he started first, unbraiding the silence, "I don't think I've ever seen you come out from behind that counter. I was starting to think you never left; like you were some kind of spirit attached with manning an apothecary at all hours."

A bubbling peal of laughter felt from (Y/N)'s lips, her hands a fumbling bundle at her waist. "It feels that way, sometimes," she smiled, "But I promise I do have more hobbies than only drying herbs and counting coin."

"And what might those be?" the Count pressed, looking down at her. In the low light, (Y/N) expected his eyes to look impossibly dark, more like coal than even in the daylight, but she found that ring of green to show more prominently now under the moon.

"Um," she floundered, tearing her eyes away from his when she felt goosebumps raise over her skin and her heart bounce against her lungs, "I-I like to tend to our garden—for the shop."

"I didn't know grow everything yourself. That must keep you rather busy."

(Y/N) shrugged, "It can, depending on the season. But, I've figured it out through the years, and made it easier on me."

"You grow everything for your shop, then?" Coming up to a fork in the path, Harry paused, waiting for (Y/N) to take the first step in the right direction before he followed.

"Most of it," she mused, an immediate list of their inventory coming to mind, "There's still a few things that I have to scavenge for, but I've become rather good at that as well."

"I don't doubt that," Harry smiled, the curl audible in his voice, "Was it your idea then to start the shop? Fill it with all the things you could grow?"

"Oh, no," she declined, a furrow appearing in her brow, "My father and mother started the apothecary when my sister and I were still babies."

"I don't think I've met your sister or mother," Harry shared, casting his gaze towards her once more, refractions of green shimmering in his irises.

While (Y/N) dreaded the subject, she couldn't exactly complain since she had been the one to bring them both up. Truthfully, it wasn't hard to talk about any more, it was harder to field the reactions of those around her when she shared the story. It was never easy to quell retroactive grief.

"My sister married and moved to the country almost two years ago," she started easy, keeping her gaze forward, "My mother passed away when I was a child."

When the Count didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) peeked up to find him looking at her differently than before. She didn't find pity swimming through his eyes, only sympathy. He looked at her like he knew her pain.

"It is a hard thing, losing family," he murmured, shifting his gaze towards the sky, "But, it can only grow easier as time goes on."

Tracing her eyes over his profile, through the immaculate stone-like chisel of his features and unblemished skin, she swore she could spot the same fine lines by his eyes and slight crease between his brows that she and her sister had sustained since their mother passed.

She swallowed, hoping her next line of questioning didn't breach too far. "Have you lost family before?"

"I have," he smiled, though it didn't completely reach those fine lines by his eyes, "It was a long time ago. It's funny how after a while, you can forget what it was like before."

Though (Y/N) loved her mother dearly and cherished those memories she had with her, she had been without her for longer than she had been with her. She knew what Harry was talking about, exactly. Missing her mother was just a part of her now, and it wasn't anything she tired to push away or get over. She grew around the grief and held onto her mother in that space.

"Exactly," she agreed, relieved to not be trying to quell someone else's grief and pity for her, "I've remembered her for longer than I actually knew her, but it does not upset me any more."

"Good," Harry cemented, "She wouldn't want you to be bothered by her memory."

Looking ahead, the town square was approaching with the town's tavern still full despite the late hour. That was the one place that could be bustling at any time of night, any day of the week. (Y/N) hoped no one would peer through the windows and catch her late night stroll.

"I apologize for speaking so morbidly," (Y/N) laughed, though she didn't exactly feel guilty to be learning that much more about Harry, "Since you know more about me, I would like to know more about you."

"I'm sure we could arrange that," he smiled that dazzling smile, "What would you like to know?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you out in the village before, except for when you do your shopping," (Y/N) mused, hoping to learn a little bit more about what he did up in that castle of his.

She watched as he shrugged, still completely unbothered by the weight of her shopping. "I come out every once in a while," he prattled, "But I suppose we never have run into each other until now. What a shame."

Her blood warmed at his final comment. He really must be teasing her, trying to pull those shy reactions from her.

Before she had a chance to say much in response, the rowdy tavern only a few meters ahead burst open with sloppy patrons spilling onto the street. The men were undoubtedly drunk as was apparent in the slurring of their shouts and the stumbling of their feet. Everything was too loud for the quiet of the night, including the calls coming from inside the bar, urging the few that had escaped to come back inside. The night couldn't already be over, it was still early, those beckoning voices said.

Maybe it was the dark of the night, the fact she had never been around anyone drunk enough to slur their words, or the stark sound of it all, but (Y/N) startled at the disturbance. She almost jumped out of her skin, her feet stumbling with her heels digging into the crumbling sidewalk. She could hear a gasp falling from her throat though she couldn't remember making the noise herself.

Before she had time to recover, Harry had swiftly tugged her to his other side. She was now covered by his body with her other side sandwiched with the walls of the other buildings lining the street. From where the drunken men stood, she doubted they would be able to accurately spot her given her new cover.

"Thank you," she murmured, her thrumming heart beginning to slow finally.

When he didn't respond, she looked up to find him shooting daggers towards the men that were being pulled back into the tavern. His sharp jaw was clenched shut with his eyes narrowed in their direction.

"Harry?" she sounded, breaking him from whatever he had running through his head.

He whipped his head to face her once more, blinking with a flutter of curling lashes.

"Yes, sorry," he finally responded, "My apologies, I would have pulled you away sooner had I seen them coming."

"It's alright," she tried to soothe, giving him a small smile, "The shop is just up there, I think I can survive a little while longer."

He cast his gaze over her form for just a beat longer, his shoulder relaxing some by the time he met her eyes again. "I'll make sure of it," Harry teased, cracking a smile at her.

They shared those final paces in silence, (Y/N) feeling rather proud of herself and a bit giddy to have had him at her side for this long, his attention on her. By the time the dark apothecary topped with the small flat came into view, she almost wished they would round the block once more. She still had more she wanted to ask him.

"It has been a pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he bowed to her, carefully pulling her shopping baskets from his shoulder and wrist, "I hope I will see you again soon—maybe we'll run into each other like this more often."

"Maybe," she smiled, taking the bags from him, "Thank you for escorting me home, and helping with my baskets."

"It's my pleasure," he repeated once more, the green in his eyes flashing with amusement, "Have a good night."

Inching towards the door, (Y/N) gave him a nod. "Good night, Harry."

A soft lipped smile on his marble-perfect face was the last thing (Y/N) saw before she was stepping inside the apothecary. The bell above the door tinkled, alerting her father who would no doubt still be awake upstairs.

"(Y/N)? Is that you?" he called down the stairs, the creak of his favorite rocking chair sounding as he stood.

"Yes, sorry!" she answered, bracing herself to trek up the steep stairs to the flat with her body weighed down with all of the groceries. "I didn't mean to take so long."

"I don't like you staying out so late after the sun goes down," her father chided her, pulling the bags from her form and taking them towards the tiny kitchen, "There's no telling what could be waiting in the dark."

(Y/N) kept her mouth shut as her father went off on his complaints. She didn't mention Harry once.

—————

Dressed in her favorite nightgown with her hair braided back with the same twine she tied her herbs with, (Y/N) peered once more out her window, finding the same black cat that had been out there since she readied for bed still sitting in the garden.

Her moon-yellow eyes were bright in the dark as she stalked and played with the bugs that threatened the state of (Y/N)'s herb garden. She had never seen the cat before, but she was tempted to convince her father to let her bring the creature inside. She would be a good pet, (Y/N) decided.

Laying back against her pillows, only dim candle light allowing her to see her ceiling, (Y/N) cast her mind back to the hours earlier. Her day had been terribly uneventful, but had ended in heart-fluttering territory.

Though she realized, thinking back to the conversation she had indulged in on her walk home, she never caught why Harry was out so late by himself, anyway.

—————

Grey clouds crowded the sky as (Y/N) carefully stepped over the vining brush at her feet. The hem of her dress snagged once or twice on some of the thorny bushes and the rough bark covering unearthed roots. Acres of towering trees formed a canopy above her head, barely letting any of the limited light through. She had her eyes on the ground as she tried to scope out those few herbs she wasn't able to cultivate at the home garden. The basket at her hip was already teeming with a good handful of different bundles, but she still needed to find some winter savory.

More than once, her mind wandered as she trekked through the trees. It had been a week since she had last seen Harry, and yet he was still the one thing that floated through her mind whenever she drifted to her daydreams. She could still see the line of his profile, backlit by the cloudy moonlight. In her dreams, she had the courage to reach out and trace over the line, grazing the bridge of his nose and the dip of his cupid's bow. He grew more and more gorgeous every time she revisited her memories.

She was already known to have her head in the clouds, dreams too big for the village to contain, but she definitely floated upwards more and more since seeing Harry.

A small smile worked its way onto her lips the longer she wafted through her reverie. (Y/N) liked to think that if she had acted on that impulse—dragging her fingertip along the planes of his features—that he would have cracked a smile, showing off the thumbed dimples and dazzling teeth. Maybe, he would have even looked at her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to his chest before dipping her in the middle of the street. He could kiss her then, the moment romantic and brazen and—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks the second she saw the dead body on the forest floor.

If not for the pallor of her skin, she could have assumed this woman had fallen asleep peacefully among the brush. She looked to be around (Y/N)'s age, unbound hair spilling around her head. Her eyes were closed with her features set in a serene scene and arms crossed over her chest. Her palms were pressed flat over her collarbones, the same way those in coffins were laid to rest six feet under. The pose reminded her of her mother.

Though all of that tranquility went to hell when she saw her throat.

While the woman had been laid to rest with utmost respect, that didn't take away from the fact her throat was ripped open. (Y/N) swore her own esophagus grew sore and tight while looking at the women. The skin had been slashed out of the way by something sharp and angry, revealing frayed sinew and torn muscle. The raw red hue stood out starkly against the snowy pallor her skin had taken on. Something had attacked her, taking out her throat and leaving her to die right where she lay.

The most unsettling part, (Y/N) realized the longer she stood there, was that there was no blood. Where she expected to see a crimson crust forming around the wood or a puddle haloing the woman's form, there was nothing. Her wound didn't even look that gruesome, truly. It was clinically clean instead, as if a healer had already cared for her and planned on bandaging the tear before letting her head home. She had been bled completely dry, leaving her with rubbery skin, thin veins, and a clean white dress.

She had heard about these incidences—people going missing only to turn up later dead—but she never pictured it was like this. To her, everything sounded as if wanderers were attacked in the woods are lost through the elements. Never once through her forages in the area had she ever met the face of someone whose life was taken so decidedly.

(Y/N) wanted to scream, she wanted to cry and panic and run. But, she just stood there.

Time was stuck as she saw the woman with long red hair, unblemished skin, and a fine gown.

All at once, the severity of the situation flooded back to her.

Her sore throat was split open with a loud scream, blood-curdling and eye-watering. She dropped her basket to the floor, returning the herbs to where she had plucked them, before she sprinted towards home. Her dress caught on the thorns of the brush, her feet stumbling over the unearthed roots. None of the obstacles slowed her. She tugged her dress free with every pump of her legs, keeping herself steady with nothing other than the will of adrenaline and fear pushing he along.

She didn't realize she had been crying until she saw the edge of the village in sight, her cheeks burning with her hands going numb. A man she recognized as one of her father's friends was out in his garden, cultivating the family vegetables when he looked up to see her, concern striking his features.

"(Y/N)," the man called out, his voice echoing over the space.

Stumbling in her tracks, she fought to keep herself steady. Instinctively, she wanted to keep running until she made it back to her bedroom with her safety intact. She knew she couldn't do that, though. She had to tell someone about the woman, find her family and lay her to rest properly.

Find who had hurt her.

"Th-There—She's—Dead," (Y/N) panted, floundering around her jumbled mind. She couldn't find a single coherent thought in her head.

The man's thick brows only furrowed as he cautiously approached her. "Dead?" he pressed, making himself appear smaller as if she were the creature to be cowering from for survival.

Hearing someone else say the word had another round of sobs wracking through her body. "Sh—The girl—She's dead. In the woods, there's been another."

Horror took the man's features. Blood drained from his face, leaving him shades paler than just moments before.

"Another?" he asked, "Like the others?"

"I-I think so," she stuttered, moments away from crumbling to the ground. She couldn't be sure if the state this young woman had been in was what the rest of the others had gone through. She hope it wasn't.

A curse was uttered under his breath before he shouted towards his home. He called for his wife, a woman (Y/N) vaguely knew from church. It only took a moment for a woman to stick her head out of the doorway, her features screwing up in worry the second she saw (Y/N)'s blubbering form.

She was only vaguely aware of the man explaining to his wife what (Y/N) had shared, and that he was going to get the others together to recover the body and care for her. His wife needed to take care of her, inform her father of what (Y/N) had seen today.

Time moved impossibly slow while racing through each second simultaneously. At some point, she checked out, shock setting in as she came to terms with everything she had seen. By the time she returned, she had been deposited on the stoop of the church, a knitted blanket around her shoulders. Shivers wracked down her spine though she could feel herself breaking into a thin sweat. Many of the women of the village had swarmed around her, including Mary and Ethel. Feet away, her father was speaking with the vicar of the church.

"Drink this, dear," Mary said, shoving a warm mug of something in her hands.

(Y/N) made no move to follow her given directly, loosely gripping the cup in her palms. Her gaze was barely focused, tears still running down her cheeks, as she absently stared at the cobblestone under her boots.

Every time she blinked, she saw the bloodless wound on the woman. Her thin, lavender eyelids masking unseeing eyes. Her thin fingers, the pale skin barely covering the bones underneath. The sections of her neck that were frayed and ripped, matching that of the hem of her dress.

Murmurs arose once more around her. (Y/N) had no doubt there was already speculation about who could have done this—who would have killed someone in such a way that an onlooker end up as traumatized as the dead. A part of her brain pinged, knowing that Mary and Ethel would no doubt be peering accusingly at the castle in the distance, their accusations known without a single word leaving their lips.

Now more than ever, having seen a body, (Y/N) had no doubt that Harry had nothing to do with these disappearances.

No human could do what she saw in the woods.

—————

"Let me grab my coat, and John and I will escort you back home."

(Y/N) did her best to school her features, regulate her reaction before reaching a gentle hand on Margret's shoulder to keep her from ascending the stairs.

"Oh, no," (Y/N) declined, canting her head with a soft smile, "You've already been too kind tonight. I can make it on my own—home's barely a block away."

Margret chewed her lip between her teeth, looking over her shoulder to where her parents were standing by the hearth. So many eyes were on them and their interaction.

"Really, Marg," (Y/N) tried again, "My father and I appreciate everyone's kindness enough, I would hate to put you out even more and make you go out in a storm like this."

"But," Margret started, "I don't want to leave you alone. The storm is bad enough without everything that... happened."

Almost two weeks had passed since (Y/N)'s run-in in the woods, and yet the village's paranoia was at an all-time high. Her father had been at her side near constant since he had finished speaking with the vicar, promising her that he wouldn't let that happen again—finding something so gruesome, as well as a silent promise that she wouldn't become the gruesome sight. He had been shaken by her reaction, telling the vicar that he had never seen her so vulnerable, on the edge of hysterics.

Any herb they couldn't grow in the garden would now be out of stock until he himself could forage through the woods, but she would never be tasked with going by herself. Otherwise, he was going to be at her side as often as he could be, ensuring she was never alone. If he couldn't be there, then he had pooled together a batch of close family friends who would be willing to stand in for him. She would never be by herself, never vulnerable to another fright.

(Y/N) was losing her mind.

Everyone walked on eggshells around her, having seen her breakdown in real time. They heeded her father's request as if law, never allowing her even a second of alone time if not in the safety of her bedroom. Even her time in the garden had been reduced to a field trip for every young woman who was tasked to be at her side, chattering about the most lighthearted of subjects.

While in a few ways, (Y/N) couldn't blame her father, she selfishly didn't really care. She needed her freedom, even if that freedom came in the form of a short walk to her home by herself.

"I promise I will be alright," (Y/N) tried to soothe her friend, offering her beaming smile to Margret's parents and brother as well. "Thank you all for dinner, please don't let me add to the burden by making you all escort me home in a storm. I would never forgive myself if any of you fell ill."

It was Margret's mother that seemed to waver from (Y/N)'s reasoning. She most likely didn't want her children out in the rain, either. (Y/N) wasn't the only one in the village that needed to be protected from whatever lived in the woods.

Peering over her shoulder, Margret searched for her parents blessing that came in the form of a small dip of her father's chin.

"I will come visit you in the morning, then," Margret cemented, "to make sure you're alright."

"I look forward to it," (Y/N) chirped, bringing her friend in for a small hug before inching towards the front door. She gave her beaming smile to the rest of the family. "Thank you again," she said, "Dinner was wonderful. I'll have to steal the recipe sometime, Mrs. Wayfield."

"I'll send it with Margret in the morning, dear," she said, her smile tight, "Get home safe. Don't linger longer than you have to."

"Absolutely," (Y/N) promised, pulling the hood of her purple cloak over her head.

Final goodbyes were shared before (Y/N) stepped outside, the raging storm that had been rattling the roof of the home now whipping against her form.

As much as the wind stung her eyes and the rain chilled her skin, she reveled in the experience. She was alone, finally.

Despite what Mrs. Wayfield said, she definitely lingered longer than she needed to, allowing the rain to soak her cloak and begin to seep through her dress. She had never been one to steep in the rain or bask in storms, but that was going to be changing tonight.

The direct walk home was decidedly short, taking less than a block's worth of steps to take her there, but she was going to make it as long as possible. She might even take the scenic route, stepping through the center of town for no reason at all other than she wanted to.

Heavy droplets of rain weighed down her cloak the longer she took outside, the wind whipping the hem around her in waves. Taking her time, she ambled over the cobblestones of the town square, ignoring the drops that slipped over her warm cheeks.

Suddenly, the storm changed once she reached the center of town.

Before, it had been nothing but rain and wind, the kind of storm that would put her to sleep in a matter of minutes. Something shifted in a matter of moments, taking the wind and amping it up into swirling chills. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, making shadowy ghosts of all the buildings and turning the trees into bony hands reaching towards the heavens. Thunder rattled the Earth a moment later. The large drops of rain quickly became a heavy downpour, slicking down her form until her clothing was stuck to her body and her eyes were struggling to blink through the droplets. Every time she peeked through slitted eyes, the sheets slammed down thick enough she could barely see through it.

The scenic route no longer seemed fun now that she was out here. She should have just gone home like she promised.

(Y/N) had to step carefully over the cobblestones, not trusting the grip of her boots over the cracks. She wished she could sprint though the barrage, but she would no doubt lose her footing and smash her face into the rocky ground if she did.

Instead, she kept her head down and tried to navigate back home through the rain, lacking sight. She kept her pace as steady as possible, giving all her focus to the task of making it home, though she was vaguely aware of a familiar panic growing in her chest.

As much as she had wanted to be alone, take time by herself and live in the village without her father's word being law, she still saw the gruesome body every time she closed her eyes. (Y/N) had nightmares of that moment she had come across the young woman, though this time she blinked her eyes open when (Y/N) grew close enough before snatching at her foot. A shaky breath expanded (Y/N)'s lungs at the childish fear that something could even be following behind her at the moment. She would have no idea if there was; every sound was drowned out by the pouring rain, her sight impaired by the water running over her eyes and the heavy sheets acting like a fog over the village.

Unable to resist the urge, (Y/N) whipped her head around, trying to catch the monster in the act of following her. Unsurprisingly, no one was there.

She was alone, just as she had wished.

Spinning around, the village was completely vacant. No one knew she was out here. No one would even know if she had been snatched like that young woman. Not until she was found again.

That flare of panic in her chest rose again, clogging her throat and thickening her head.

She needed to get out of here. Being alone wasn't worth this. She should have just taken up Margret and John on their offer and gone straight to her room. She could have found her alone time on another day.

Picking the first direction in front of her, (Y/N) stormed through. This had to take her home, right? She had lived in this flat almost all of her life, she wouldn't forget where it was.

Until, of course, (Y/N) noticed she had taken the complete wrong direction, heading towards the opposite end of the village. A strike of lightning lit up the grey sky, showing off the vague shadow of the towering castle in the distance.

The Count's home. She had to turn around; she was no where close to the apothecary.

This time, when (Y/N) spun around, trying to find a direction to head through her woolen throat and mounting panic, she couldn't decide. What if she went the wrong way again? What if she ended up back in the town center?

What if she died out here?

The morbid turn of her thoughts took her breath away.

She was stunned in place, unable to make any move in any direction.

Suddenly, a hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her shaking form.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?"

(Y/N) stumbled, turning around to face to familiar voice speaking right behind her.

There, backlit by another round of lightning and thunder, was Harry.

His hair was almost black under the rain, near soaked despite having barely been out in the elements for longer than a few moments. His velvet jacket grew darker with every drop absorbed into the thick fabric. He pale skin was a beacon in the gloom.

"H-Harry?"

"You can't stay out here, (Y/N). You're going to fall ill, or worse," he told her, concern dripping from his tone the same way the rain clumped through the length of her lashes.

When she gave her body permission to do so, she wasn't sure, but in a heartbeat she was clinging to his form. He was her safety in the middle of his storm, keeping her from falling victim to the most morbid of her thoughts. It was beyond improper, but she didn't care as she dug her fingers into his waistcoat. He couldn't leave her here.

"I-I was trying to go home," she whined, her voice fragile under the weight of everything. "I think I'm l-lost."

She felt pathetic to utter something so silly given she knew this town like the back of her hand, but it was a truth.

Harry lingered in front of her for a moment, seemingly assessing her before he sprung into action.

"That's alright," he murmured, speaking as if she were an injured animal, "Let me take you home. I think I remember the way. Is that okay? I have my carriage over there."

He pointed behind himself, where another slice of lightning revealed a black, boxy carriage led by regal white horses. She could see the vague form of someone sitting in the coach box.

When she didn't immediately answer, he wrapped a tentative arm around her form. "Let me get you home, (Y/N)."

She gave an absent nod, willing to let him take her anywhere—anything was better than this, she decided. He bundled her against him as he took her to the side of the carriage, sacrificing an arm holding her middle to open the door. He helped heave her inside, getting her in as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," she peeped when she settled on the bench seat. She kept her eyes on him as he waited a moment, relaying to the driver the new destination.

Her body shook with unstoppable tremors as Harry climbed in after her, her soaked clothing ruining the red velvet under her. She would have to apologize to him later.

It was here, in the dry of his carriage, that (Y/N) realized she was sobbing with rivers of hot tears pouring down her cheeks. It wasn't just the chill of the rain that had her feeling as if she couldn't breathe, she realized. In the safety of the cover, wracking sobs kept her from properly filling her lungs, her inhales way too short to be safe.

The carriage spun around her despite the way (Y/N) tried to focus on her hands on her lap. This wasn't good, she knew.

"(Y/N)," she heard, the voice firm and commanding, "Look at me, darling."

Absently, she pulled her head up to face Harry.

He was inches away from her. (Y/N) could make out the the shattered shards of green around his black pupils. The strong line of his nose and pillow lips were right there.

Harry was dazzling. Breathtaking.

Unfortunately, breathtaking was the last thing she needed right then.

Before she knew any better, (Y/N)'s lashes fluttered as her eyes fell closed on their own accord, her breathing stunted in her lungs. The last thing she was aware of was Harry's panicked call of her name before she spilled over the velvet seat as she lost consciousness.

—————

When (Y/N) finally cracked her eyes open, her limbs felt impossibly heavy as if she had rocks tied to each end as she sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Her bleary sight took it's time clearing, allowing heartbeats to pass before the blurry streaks around her came into focus.

She was in an immaculate bedroom, she realized. Her body was cushioned by luxurious velvet, dyed a deep crimson. The mattress underneath was plush and inviting, urging her to sink deeper and deeper into the dreamy bedding and warmth it offered. A length of fur ran across the end of the bed, tickling her bare ankles as she stretched.

Sitting up where she had been nestled atop the bed, more and more of her head came to her. The bed was even more opulent that she thought. Four posters shot up from around the frame, holding curtains made of delicate black lace. Her hands ached just looking at it, thinking about how long it would take to make something so beautiful, even with the help of one of those sewing machines. More furs and velvet decorated the large space; everything honing in on the darker spectrum of colors. Here and there, pops of gold thread appeared like minute rays of sunlight. At the bedside was a bouquet of cut flowers, all in rich violet hues and smelling sweet enough to draw her in like a butterfly. And she almost did, sticking her nose into the tall stalk of trumpet shaped flowers until she realized what kind they were and jerked back.

Foxglove, she recognized them to be. Poisonous.

Around the stalk were wisteria blooms and plumes of baby's breath. The wisteria was another set of flowers that were gorgeous to look at, but deadly in the end.

Pulling away with a stiff back, she set her bare feet on the ground. Now that she was free from the flowers, the woody scent of winter savory and spike of tobacco in the background were the prominent aromas taking her attention. Looking around her, her cloak was dry, laid on the end of her borrowed bed alone with her boots set up in a neat row by her feet.

This place was extravagant. A fairytale daydream, perfect for her head-in-the-clouds mindset.

This had to be a castle. No random hut could have something this indulgent.

There was only one castle she knew of.

Memories came back to (Y/N) in pieces.

The storm. She had left the Wayfields' home, telling them she would head straight home despite knowing she was lying. She had wanted some time alone, away from her father's overprotective gaze. But the storm was too much. She had pathetically lost her way and panicked, remembering the woman she had found in the woods.

Then, there was the gleaming black carriage. The ghostly pale face of the Count who offered to take her home, get her out of the rain and into safety before he would be on his way. She remembered him helping her into the carriage, telling the coachman that they needed to drop her back at the apothecary. Her emotions had fluctuated to opposite ends of the spectrum: extreme panic under the sheets of rain to the deep relief she felt at seeing a familiar face who could help her.

The last few things she could remember was the guilt she felt at ruining the luxe seating in the Count's carriage before looking up to see him facing her directly with his breathtaking features. That was all that had been left before she tumbled back and lost consciousness.

This was no doubt the Count's home. There had been times she had wondered what kind of interior a building as magnificent as this one would have, but she had never thought of something this indulgent.

Though, despite her admirations, she couldn't stay here.

She was never supposed to take even the long walk home, let alone travel all the way to the gargantuan home that the most notorious member of the village resided in. (Naming him as a member of their village was a stretch, but the easiest way for (Y/N) to think at the moment). There was no telling how long she had been out, but her father was going to kill her even if it was ten seconds.

Despite the ache in her bones and the stiff fabric of her ill dried dress, she forced her boots back on, the laces pulled into clumsy bows. Her cloak was grabbed in a haste before she started towards the door. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she needed to get back home as soon as she could.

Swinging open the heavy door, (Y/N) swayed on her feet, stopping in her tracks when she saw who was on the other side.

Propped against the opposing wall, between more cut flowers and immaculate paintings, was the Count himself.

He was at attention within a second, but (Y/N) had caught the way he had been slumped against the wall, his shoulders a sullen slope. In an instant, he had crossed the grand hall to meet her at her door, his hands reaching out towards her. His eyes looked darker than ever, only light shatters of deep green apparent in his iris. His usually flawless hair was left in disarray. Somewhere, he had shed his coat and cravat, leaving the billowed sleeves of his shirt and grey waistcoat the only articles on his torso. Even the neckline of his white shirt had been left loose, a stretch of creamy skin on display.

"Are you okay?" he breathed out, his gaze immediately tripping down her form before she had a chance to answer, "I-I tried to make sure you hadn't injured your head, or-or worse when you fell faint, but I couldn't be positive."

Her lashes fluttered in a blink as she startled over his concern. She had never seen him so discomposed, his demeanor world's away from calm.

"I-I'm alright," she breathed, finding her tongue in her dry mouth, "You brought me to your home?" She could vaguely remember him ordering the coachman to take her home, back to the flat above the apothecary.

He wet his lips, his eyes searching through hers as he collected his words. "When you fell faint," he started, "I was not sure if you would have been alone if I took you home. I was worried; I decided to take you back here, so I could keep an eye on you. That's all, I swear it."

She was sure he knew just as well as she that being alone like this—unchaperoned, neither of them dressed as they typically should be, no one aware of her whereabouts—was more inappropriate than a single moonlight stroll through town. This could ruin both of them if anyone found out; (Y/N) would be deemed unbecoming for marriage, and the small amount of reputation Harry had would be buried six feet under.

Throughout all, (Y/N) still found her skin warming, seeing how genuinely he spoke of her and his worry of her well-being. Other than her cloak and boots, she could tell none of her clothing had been tampered with. He had done nothing more than keep an eye on her.

"Thank you," she swallowed, nodding her head as she allowed a small smile to curl her lips. She felt a bit desperate then, hoping he knew how deep her gratitude went. "Truly, thank you. I-I don't know what happened to me, it was scary."

"I'm sure it was," he murmured, the tight set to his features loosening the longer she stood in one piece before him. "I am glad I found you when I did."

"How long has it been?" she asked, noticing not a single window that could give away the time of day. She wasn't even sure if it was still night time.

He deflated some at her words. "A few hours, I think" he shared, dropping his gaze as if realizing just now how long he had been her self-appointed guardian, "The storm finally ended not too long ago. You were exhausted, (Y/N)."

She had never heard her name wrapped in his voice before. Looking at him now, she was back in that carriage with her lungs stunted and mind only on him. She swore she could see his eyes lightening before her gaze, more and more green coming to the surface like a murky pond under sunlight. The panicked urge she had to race home slowly melted out of her.

"I'm not surprised," she agreed, finally breaking her gaze from his for no other reason than to allow her breath to come back. She cast her eyes around the opulent space, taking in the priceless art around her, the glossy flooring and detailed decor. "This is your home?"

"For as long as I can remember," he smiled, pride straightening his shoulders as he followed her line of sight, "It's my sanctuary. If you'd like, I can have the kitchen make something for you and I can give you a tour of the grounds in the meantime."

Instantly, she wanted to accept. She wanted to see what kind of creations a place like this could make in the kitchen. She wanted to know where he had found such gorgeous, but deadly plantlife. She wanted to know if any of her daydreams had been right about this place.

Unfortunately, there was that niggling worry that popped back up in the back of her mind.

"As much as I would love to, I can't," she reluctantly let out, "I have to go home. My father... he's probably rallying the village as we speak, trying to find me before he loses his mind."

Harry's expression fell, losing that pride over her praise. Nonetheless, he gave her a relenting nod. "I understand," he said, cracking a small smile, "I have had you hidden away for long enough, I suppose. I'll have my staff ready my carriage, and I'll have you home by dawn."

"Thank you," she said earnestly once more, "Really, Harry. I fear where I would be if you hadn't come across me."

"I do as well," he shared, his voice low as if sharing a secret with her.

This time, (Y/N) didn't wipe the smile from her lips as she looked up at him. Another shade of green seemingly appeared in his gaze.

—————

"You're not coming with me?" (Y/N) asked, poking her head out of the door of the coach when Harry didn't immediately follow after her. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to crest the horizon, giving away just how long she had been far from home, though that didn't stop her from stalling.

"Unfortunately," he said, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside the carriage. He looked up at her from where he stood, holding the door open as he spoke to her. "I have business to attend to very soon; I wouldn't have time to arrange everything if I escorted you this morning. I hope you'll accept my apologies, anyway."

Though she was disappointed she would lose out on time with him, she couldn't blame him. He must be a busy man if he had this place to call home and a full staff to take care of it. He didn't have time to chauffeur her around the village, even if that was what she wanted. He didn't even have a chance to tell her where he had found the flowers for his bouquets.

"I suppose I'll forgive you this time," she said, a sly smile on her lips that had Harry's own lips blooming, "But next time, I won't be so lenient."

"I appreciate your grace, my lady," he played along, offering her that dazzling smile and dimpled cheeks. "I promise to see you soon. I feel like I'll need to visit the apothecary sooner rather than later."

(Y/N) could take that promise. "I will make sure we stay stocked, then."

"Until next time," Harry said, inching away from the carriage with reluctant steps deeper into the shadows.

"Until next time."

With that, Harry closed the door to the coach, relaying the destination to the driver.

With her hands in her lap and heart bubbling in her chest, (Y/N) allowed her cheeks to split with her smile. Definitely better than any kind of daydream her cloudy head had come up with.

—————

As soon as she approached the church, (Y/N) was grateful for the instructions she had given to the coachmen to drop her at the edge of the village, leaving her to be the only one who had seen the carriage at all. As she had suspected, her father really had rallied every able body in the town. She could only imagine she had caught them right before they started combing the woods and terrorizing the neighboring villages until they found her.

It was Margret who had seen her first, breaking down into tears with a bursting sob before she was running towards (Y/N).

"Where have you been?!" she screamed, collapsing around (Y/N) in a steely hug, "I—We—Everyone thought you were—"

Margret didn't have to finish her words for (Y/N) to know what had been on the village's mind.

Before she had a chance to do anything more than reciprocate the hug and draw a breath, her father was barreling over. "(Y/N)!" he shouted, a mix of relief and anger tinting his tone. She doubted he even knew how to feel in that moment.

"I'm sorry, Margret," (Y/N) muttered, offering a consoling smile before pulling away from her hug. The Wayfields stepped forward to collect their daughter while (Y/N) went towards her father, already dreading the lecture she would receive. "Father, I—"

The air was stolen from her lungs the second he scooped her into a tight hug. "My daughter," he murmured into her hair, nestling her against his chest, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, aware of the eyes watching their embrace.

"What happened?" he asked, pulling away to face her with watery eyes and warm cheeks, "Why didn't you stay with Margret and her family? They said you went through the storm alone, promising to come back home."

(Y/N) felt immense floods of guilt bubble through her system. This wasn't the welcome home she had thought she'd garner.

"I hadn't meant to frighten anyone," she started, hoping the rest of the village overheard, "I only wanted a minute alone, but I was planning on coming home right away. But, the storm was so heavy, and I scared myself. I was disoriented and ended up a village over. I stayed in their church for the night, until it was safe to come home."

The lie slipped off her tongue like water, the story planned from her time in the carriage. Her guilt only worsened knowing she was deceiving her father, but she didn't want anyone to know where she had spent the night. Despite the impropriety of the whole thing situation Harry, she didn't want Mary and Ethel chattering to her father that the Count was trying to steal away his daughter and flay her before dropping her in the forest.

She didn't want Harry to be dragged into this.

His features tightened at her words, but she could see as he ultimately accepted them. "Okay," he relented before flexing his arms around her in a pulsing hug, "Never again, (Y/N). Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," she promised, holding him back just as tightly.

Over his shoulder, she could see the gleaming of a black carriage ascending the trail towards the large castle in the distance.

—————

oleander, if consumed, can slow the heart and cause death within hours.

ahhhhhh! super super super different for myself ngl! I changed a couple of ideas I had just bc I started scaring myself but thank you so much for reading! im so happy im finally putting out a halloween fic! so sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

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gainerbf · 6 months

Note

Do you have a shirt /pants you think you’re gunna out grow by the end of this holiday season? 👉👈 it could be fun to see how they fit now (Halloween) vs the end of the holidays (new years? Valentines?). — Sincerely, A+ anon

So this isn’t the first time someone has requested for me to do the whole ‘outgrow something over a period of time’ thing. Certainly won’t be the last. It’s hot. I get it. I just haven’t really had anything great to outgrow…until now 😅

This is the shirt and pants to a suit I bought back in 2021. No, I do not have pics from me in 2021 wearing it (am sad). BUT. Even though it will cost me money, this fucking thing is doomed. As you can see. Starting November 25th, I will post an update.

I know. Exciting. A new white shirt for you guys to lose your shit over. This one will be a tougher challenge than the old one because it’s buttoned, it’s not too too far off from my actual fitting size and I would have to gain some serious weight to blow up out of it.

Fun fact though: I’ve gained 23 pounds since late June and am currently on a regimen that is causing me to gain weight steadily so let’s see how this goes. 1 year. This November 25th to November 25th 2024.

#gainerbfask

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comradekatara · 3 months

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in the avatar: the last airbender episode “the fortuneteller,” sokka spends an entire day making desperate, futile attempts to convince the villagers of makapu that aunt wu, the village psychic, is a hack, and implores them to instead conduct their lives on a platform of empirical reasoning by pointing out the overt flaws in their belief system. one villager asks him, “can your science explain why it rains?” to which an exasperated sokka responds, “yes! yes it can!” ultimately, sokka is proven right when aunt wu predicts that the volcano near their village will remain dormant for another year, and within hours it begins to erupt. while sokka may not have changed any minds by the end of the episode, his insistence on operating rationally saves an entire village from being destroyed, and he is framed as a champion of logic and science.

in the malcolm in the middle episode “polly in the middle,” malcolm (the sokka of white people) spends days attempting to convince dewey that his belief in his so-called “lucky shirt” is an idiotic superstition to hold, and implores him to look at the world rationally. malcolm claims that, “believing in that kind of nonsense isn’t smart or healthy or good for society. the world doesn’t work by magic or superstition, it’s rational.” to which dewey retorts, “maybe you believe that because all you’re good at is thinking, and if the world isn’t logical then you’re lost.”

both sokka and malcolm bring about their own misfortune constantly through overthinking and practically inviting the universe to taunt them. when comically unfortunate coincidences befall them immediately upon concluding their diatribes that the world is purely rational, both insist that "this proves nothing!" however, by the end of the episode, malcolm's infant brother jamie falls through an air vent and is only saved upon his fall being cushioned by none other than dewey's lucky shirt. the framing of the episode, as well as the entire show as a whole, suggests that dewey's hypothesis is correct: dewey is ontologically lucky, and malcolm is doomed to a life of misery.

so i guess my point here is that while sokka may think he has it bad—and don't get me wrong, he certainly does—it nevertheless could be far, far worse. he could be malcolm.

#watching mitm just means seeing malcolm constantly undergo various injustices like ‘this literally happened to sokka’#‘this probably happened to sokka’ ‘this would happen to sokka if he lived in the suburbs’ etc etc #and then occasionally ‘my boy sokka would never do this. for shame malcolm! for shame’#(im still a deweygirl tho)#synthesis #sokka

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acescavern · 8 months

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OPERATION RIZZ - NA JAEMIN

Navi - M.list

EDITED NOTE: I just want to thank you all so so much for the love you've shown this fic! to celebrate, check out the early release of End To Start!

Pairing: Na Jaemin x fem!reader (Ft. Yangyang, Haechan, Johnny, Jeno, and mentions of other nct members, nct dream are the friend group, the Jeno and his girlfriend mentioned are the same pairings from Quiet and Game over!)

Genre: Fluff, angst, humor, college au nct,

Synopsis: In an attempt to teach Donghyuck how to get a girlfriend, Jaemin helps him make a list only... that list seems awfully familiar.

wc: 7.8k ( my longest fic yet, I have perished.)

warnings: reference to the sexual activity that happened in Game Over between Jeno and his girlfriend, Mentions of smoking a joint at a frat party but no detailed usage and not by the two mc, Alcohol, Drunk reader, swearing, cringe pick up lines, reader, and Jaemin play the horror game 'the quarry' but no spoilers, timeline jumps a bit but I'm certain it's still understandable, mentions of harsh pranks being pulled by readers previous roommates, hints at previous roommates being bullies to the reader.

A/N: Hi, my lovelies. This fic was a wild ride, I'm telling you. I'm still not satisfied with the header but we move ig. This took me five-ish days I think, mainly cause I left it for at least three of those. I honestly hope you love this as much as I do. If I have missed any warnings please let me know! @sexygrass you asked me to tag you in the finished product! here you are,

Feel free to send me asks to talk about the fic, I love talking about fic characters.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

It was a funny thing to watch Donghyuck fail miserably. It was even funnier to watch the brightly colored cocktail drip from the ends of his hair, soaking into his pristine white t-shirt. To Jaemin, it was the best entertainment in the world to watch his friend flirt terribly. There was a reason Jisung called him bitchless. Not to doom any potential girl Donghyuck could end up with, but the guy was just a walking beacon of cringe pickup lines.

Like tonight. Jaemin had watched from his spot perched on a barstool a few seats away as his friend confidently walked up to the bar. He’d internally winced as Donghyuck had added his own drink to the girl’s tab and he’d tried so hard to still his facial features when the said drink was promptly tipped over his head following the line he gave. “You owe me a drink, I dropped mine when I looked at you.”

It was safe to say that the man crashed, burned, and disintegrated. Jaemin couldn’t hold his laughter for long, barely able to set his drink down on the bar without spilling it before the howls of laughter racked through his body. He felt a hand slap down on his shoulder, the sounds of Yangyang’s own hysterical laughter hitting his ears.

“It’s not funny! Look at my shirt!” Donghyuck growled in annoyance, fingers plucking the wet material away from his skin. “I’m going to clean up...”

The man moved to brush past his two friends, Yangyang stilling his laughter long enough to reach out and grasp his sleeve. “I wouldn’t, Restrooms occupied.” He straightened from his hunched-over position, his voice strained from holding in further laughter. “Think Jeno’s trying to one-up over Jaehyun, dragged his girl in there and locked the door about twenty minutes or so ago.”

“For fuck sake!” He whined, foot kicking at a leg of Jaemin’s bar stool.

Jaemin stood, finally able to keep his laughter at bay. “What did you expect? He literally dragged us here in a fit of jealous rage.” He scoffed light-heartedly, slinging an arm over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s just go home - Yang, you crashing at Hyuck’s too?” Jaemin craned his neck to catch his fellow 00’ liner’s answer.

Yangyang shrugged in acceptance of the offer, slinging his own arm over Hyuck’s other shoulder.

“So,” Hyuck began, pausing to slurp some of his McDonald’s strawberry milkshake through the disintegrating paper straw. “You’re telling me that my lines don’t work at all?”

Yangyang and Jaemin gave a pointed look to each other, almost as if trying to decide who should be the bearer of bad news. Jaemin gave a slight sigh, his mouth poised ready to talk but his brain still trying to come up with an answer.

“It’s just … You’ve got no rizz” He let the statement hang in the air, chewing into his cheek as Donghyuck blanched at the blunt statement.

“And you have?” He jeered in defense, chuckling in amusement.

“Dude, he’s the rizzler.” Yangyang piped in, the amused grin on his face broadening. “Jaemin’s got effortless rizz and he doesn’t even try.”

Jaemin was startled when his friend threw himself over his lap with a drawn-out dramatic cry. “Then help me!” He pleaded, loosely gripping Jaemin’s collar to shake him.

“Christ! Okay, Okay!” He gave in pretty quickly, shoving Donghyuck off of him with a little effort.

Jaemin shook his head at Hyuck’s antics, Yangyang laughing along with him. No words were spoken for a few moments until the latter made an announcement.

“Let Operation Rizz commence.”

Over the course of the next ten minutes, the two made Donghyuck write down his own step-by-step guide how to get a date.

Jaemin plucked the notepad from his friends' fingers, reading through them with a grimace of distaste.

"Step one is wink?" He read off in disbelief, nearly choking on air when he read step two. "Flirt with her best friend. Are you insane?"

He snatched the pen from Hyuck, ripping the list out of the book and scrunching it Into a ball.”We’ll rewrite it.”

"That's what the Buzzfeed article said to do!" That comment alone earned him a paper ball to the head.

"You need to practice and observe." Yangyang was right, it would be handy to have an actual female to be a 'test subject' as it were.

"But who? The only girls Hyuck know hate him and the only girl I kno–" Jaemin's words stopped dead as he caught onto what his friend was hinting at. "Absolutely not. ____, would never agree to this."

At least Jaemin hoped his roommate would be repulsed enough by the idea to call him crazy and move on.

The thing is, Jaemin had been a little selfish when it came to you. He had very rarely invited you to hang with any of his friends, not that he had to — you were purely roommates who had the same computer science class. That was how you met him. Jaemin had rocked up to class, late and unbothered. It was you who caught onto his small tales of anxiety when he struggled to catch up, wordlessly sliding your notes on the previous few slides onto his desk.

STEP ONE: BEFRIEND

After the lesson had ended and various students began to pile out of the door, you slowly started to pack up your things. A throat being cleared gained your attention, Jaemin looking at you sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks for that." A smile of chagrin directed toward you. “I thought I could catch up but Mr. Kim just goes so fast.”

You chuckled, pinching your notes from the table to put them in your bag, zipping it up, and turning toward your classmate. “Next time, don’t be late.” Jaemin was drawn to the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you granted him a grin. “It’s my turn to be late next class.”

True to your word, at 8:45 am the following Thursday, you snuck into the back of the class. You looked disheveled and half-dead to your fellow classmates. You didn’t want the unwanted attention that was sure to be drawn to you if you scrambled down to a vacant seat at the front, instead, you slipped into the closest empty seat on the back row.

You tried to make as minimal noise as possible when taking your things out of your backpack and you were so preoccupied with the action that you almost jumped when a few sheets of paper were slipped wordlessly onto your desk from the seat next to you.

The two of you fell into an unspoken routine this way. Jaemin would take notes for you to copy if you were late and vice versa, an unspoken rule being you took turns being late. For you, this wasn’t a problem. You were rarely late, something Jaemin noticed when he was hurriedly yanking on his jeans in an attempt to leave on time. He had secretly cursed you at that moment. Jaemin couldn’t be late, it wasn’t his turn and the rule was unspoken.

The next time you were late, you were very late. Jaemin had honestly thought you weren’t coming, his eyeline drifted to the door on multiple occasions. An odd feeling of disappointment settled in his chest. You had become the highlight of his day, Jaemin found himself looking forward to his computer science classes for once.

When you did finally turn up and slip into the seat next to him, he noticed you didn’t even make a move to remove your things from your backpack. You just stared straight ahead, hair drenched from the horrible weather outside and unshed tears pooling at your waterline.

One look at you and Jaemin’s teasing expression faded. He set his pen down, angling his body toward your seat. “Are you okay?” Jaemin almost slapped himself, it was obvious you weren’t.

You raised the damp sleeve of your sweater to wipe at your face, “Sorry I’m late, Jaemin.” Your voice was raw and croaky, he was sure you were going to get sick. “I slept in my car.”

The male blanched, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Jaemin was sensitive enough to keep his voice low and careful, trying to coax the answers to his many questions from you. “Why, What happened?”

You sniffled quietly, fighting the urge to curl into yourself and hide. “My housemates locked me out again.” Jaemin’s expression softened, his hand reaching over to tuck your wet hair behind your ear. “Then my car broke down on the way to campus.”

Jaemin had heard about how your housemates were. You’d ranted to him in many lessons about what they were like. The only reason you were all housed together was through the private landlord student accommodation scheme set up for students who didn’t want the dormitory life.

He knew full well that it was a popular-eat-nerd food chain out there and he was grateful his grandma paid his rent for him - Always grandma’s favorite boy. It only took a few more of those incidents for Jaemin to offer his precious games room. He proposed a very convincing argument.

“Look, It’s a steal!” He exclaimed, “No rent and we just split the rest of the utilities and grocery costs, your own room, closer to campus, and me!” Jaemin flashed you his pearly whites at his winning argument.

“I can’t just take up your space like that, Jaemin.” You sighed, as much of an amazing offer it was… You didn’t want it out of pity.

“We’ll probably barely see each other! We can split the chores and work something out.”

It was safe to say you ended up caving into the offer. Any college student would snatch up the deal of accommodation with no rental costs.

Jaemin sat open-mouthed as you bobbed your head in agreement with the idea. “Hm, Yang’s right. I’m the only girl you know that won’t get violent when Hyuck acts like a douche.” You sat back in your chair, swiping Jaemin’s iced coffee from the table and taking a sip through the straw.

“I’m sorry, what?” He spluttered, “Hyuck gets attached, clingy. What if he likes you?” Jaemin’s worries were irrelevant to everyone else but him.

Jaemin didn’t like the idea of Donghyuck catching feelings but he supposed he may be acting on possessive instinct. He shook his head, avoiding the look Yangyang was giving him. It was like the guy was trying to analyze his expressions and read his mind. He felt momentarily exposed.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” You snickered, “Donghyuck, sit.”

Hyuck brushed off his barista apron, shoving his order pad into one of the large pockets in the front as he sat at the vacant chair at the table. You sat up from your slouched position in your chair, sliding Jaemin’s coffee back over to him - the cup being halfway empty by now.

“Show me what you got.” You tapped the table with your hand.

You, Jaemin, and Yangyang watched as Hyuck ran a hand through his hair, his left eye dropping into a wink that could only be described as cringe when he leaned forward toward you. “Are you a transformer?” He paused a moment, long enough to give an over-exaggerated lip bite, his flirty gaze running up and down your torso. “ ‘Cause you’re Optimus fin-” His confidence was harshly broken as you mocked the sound of a loud buzzer.

“Pickup lines don’t work anymore, Dude.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “That was- …. I don’t actually have words for how bad that truly was.” Donghyuck’s face fell.

“Technically, we’re skipping step one because you already kind of know ____. So, step one is ‘befriend’. If she was a stranger you’d have just failed miserably.” Jaemin said to his friend, lifting his coffee to inspect the cup of the missing liquid.

“Alright, What’s step two?” Hyuck shrugged, looking expectantly at his friends.

STEP TWO: GET TO KNOW

Back when you had first moved in with Jaemin, the two of you were more than awkward. It felt odd for each of you to see each other in your most vulnerable states. At home. In class things were different, that was a side of you that prepared to go out and face the day, a social mask slipping in place.

It took just one instance to get over the hurdle of timidness between you both. One Saturday, Jaemin had just gotten back with the groceries, the list crumpled in one of the bags he was hefting. You were leaning against the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug of coffee - specifically a Chocolate Mocha from a sachet - cupped in your hands.

Once all of the bags were strewn over the kitchen counter and the floor surrounding the fridge, you set your mug in the sink and began helping.

“Oh, no way!” You gasped, holding up the box of frozen desserts. “Two-ball-screwballs?” Jaemin looked up from shoving frozen food into the freezer drawers, a surprised smile on his face.

“Yeah! My mom used to get them for me every Friday after school.” He shut the drawer he was working on.

“I thought they were discontinued!” You gushed, tearing open the box and removing the cone-shaped cup. “I love these.”

Jaemin’s shoulders perked, his eyes brightening. “You’re kidding! My friends think they’re low tier.” He took the box from you, removing one of the plastic cones for himself and putting the rest into the freezer to save them from melting.

“Low tier? Your friends are low tier.” You scoffed jokingly, peeling off the top.

Jaemin rose to his feet, accepting the teaspoon you offered to him. “I’ll pay you ten to say that to Chenle’s face.” He chuckled, diving his spoon into the red cherry slush.

“What other gems are you hiding?” You questioned, spoon hanging from your mouth as you began to finish off the groceries with your free hand.

“Depends, do you like video games?” Jaemin lifted himself to perch on the breakfast bar.

“I like watching people play them,” You cast a glance back at your roommate. “I don’t have the hand-eye coordination for them.”

Jaemin hummed in thought, his gaze locked onto the dessert in his hand. “If I set up in the living room, do you wanna, maybe, watch me play?” He offered, discreetly peering up at you without lifting his head.

He watched you ponder over the idea a moment before nodding, “Sure.”

That night, you and Jaemin settled onto the couch with the controller firmly in his hand. You stared at the opening game screen ‘The Quarry’ glitching back at you. Jaemin had promised you that this wasn’t so much of a fast-paced game and more of a multiple choice.

“It’s a horror game-” He caught the look of unease on your face. “But it’s not that bad! It’s like a movie but you choose what happens and each option you choose alters the game path. It’s really cool!” The look on his face, as he describes one of his favorite games, will forever be your favorite expression on him.

His eyes light with excitement, and the controller drops to his lap as he uses elaborate hand gestures to explain the concept to you. There’s a feeling deep down that you want him to look like that whilst talking about you. But, that’s stupid, right? You’d only known him a few months at that point.

“Can you turn the subtitles on? I can’t hear a thing without them.” You nudged him with your elbow, prompting Jaemin to stare at you in amusement.

“If I wanted to read a book, I would.” He quipped, still navigating the settings to turn them on for you regardless.

You were only on the first chapter of the game and somehow you’d ended up scrunched up into Jaemin’s side, all awkwardness from before long gone. “No no! Don’t go down there, That’s just stupid!” You shouted, peeking up from his shoulder.

“____,” Jaemin laughed, “We have to, it’s the gameplay. We gotta follow Max into the cellar.” A hand left his controller to pat the top of your head.

You were both late for class the next day.

“Get to know them? How long will this take?” Donghyuck complained, a pout playing at his lips.

He wasn’t a patient man and quite honestly, this was taking longer than he had thought. You cast him a sharp look. “Hyuck, you said you wanted a girlfriend. A lot of work goes into the buildup.”

“Can’t you just date me and then I don’t have to get to know anyone?” He huffed, letting his forehead drop to the table.

His question earned him two abrupt shouts of “No!” Both Yangyang and you exchanged slightly shocked looks at how quickly Jaemin said it along with you.

“Ugh! Fine, so, I get to know them.” Donghyuck lifted his head. “Do I have to ask questions?”

A mumbled ‘He’s hopeless’ under your breath had you receiving two kicks under the table as Jaemin responded to the question. “Yeah, Ask about her hobbies, and family, know the basics, and find a niche to get into deeper conversation.”

“Noted. So, find things in common, then?” Hyuck voiced the question with slight uncertainty.

You grinned, tapping his arm to reward him. “Yeah, exactly!” You studied him a moment, face scrunched in thought. “Say… Hyuck, is there someone in specific you’ve got your eye on?” You questioned.

Hyuck laughed nervously, the three sets of eyes staring at him intently making him slightly nervous. See, Donghyuck always had an obvious tell when he was hiding something. First, eye contact became nonexistent. Then, he would over-blink, his friends joked that he’d take off if he blinked too fast. Lastly, the incoherent defense. Hyuck was doing all of those things.

“Do we need to teach you to lie as well?” Yangyang teased, jabbing his friend in the side.

“Speak for yourself, I don’t lie.” You spoke, pretending to inspect your nails until Jaemin’s snort of laughter cut across the table to you.

“Yeah, right. ____, who ate the last two-ball screwball?” He quipped, an eyebrow raised in challenge at you.

“Uhm, Luna.” It wasn’t Jaemin’s cat.

STEP THREE: GESTURES OF KINDNESS

It was rare for you to go out with your friends. It was rare for you to get drunk, too. You had declined an invitation to the neo-frat party for months, much to the disappointment of your friend. It was after four months of living with Jaemin that you found out he was going, only then did you finally accept the next invitation you received.

You’d spent all afternoon following your friends around the shopping plaza to find the right outfit. Your outfit was at your friends' house, you didn’t see the need to overdress for drinking in a stuffy frat house full of sweaty college kids.

The first glimpse of you Jaemin had caught that day was an hour into the party, the frat house in full swing. He’d been roped in to help set up, his friend Mark being a part of it and Hyuck being heavily involved. Jaemin had been looking for you all night and when he finally caught you, you were talking to Johnny.

Jaemin felt unsettled, though he had no choice who you spoke to. He kept glancing at you, hand gripping the solo cup tighter in his hand the more you laughed at Johnny’s jokes. You’d been drinking, that much was clear. Your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes slightly glazed with intoxication, Jaemin had caught onto how you swayed subtly on the spot, your hand gestures over-exaggerated, and your giggles that seemed to happen at everything Johnny said.

Jaemin’s gaze tore away from you when a hand waved in front of his face, his mind catching up with reality when he saw his best friend. “Jeno, sorry, didn’t hear you.”

Jeno gave his friend a knowing look, shaking his head. “You were staring, if you like her then tell her.” He shrugged, lifting his beer bottle to his lips to take a swig.

Jaemin frowned, his eyeline drawn to you once more as he shook his head. “It’s a bad idea, we live together.” As much as he hated to admit it, Jaemin wondered if inviting you to live with him was a mistake for this reason. “It’d be awkward if it didn’t work out, Jen.”

It’d taken Jaemin only one month of living with you to come to the conclusion that he was slowly becoming head over heels infatuated with you. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was love yet, but Jaemin knew you made him feel things that were an entirely new experience.

“If you’re so headstrong on it, make me a bet.” Jaemin’s attention was stolen away from you once more, his eyebrows scrunched in an expression that told Jeno that he wasn’t really listening at all. “If you end up dating by… let's say, the end of the academic year, then you have to get a tattoo.”

Jaemin gulped slightly, he wasn’t a fan of needles. But he was so sure he would be able to resist you. “Fine, if we don’t, you’ve got to get one. In a place of my choosing.” Jaemin mastered a grin, shaking Jeno’s hand to seal the deal.

When Jaemin turned back around, you or Johnny were nowhere to be seen. His mind’s implication of what it meant had his heart dropping into his stomach. He bitterly shook his head, downing the rest of the ‘special punch’ in his cup.

Jaemin went on with the party, utterly miserable at the thought of you holed up in one of the various upstairs bedrooms with Johnny. Of all people. You had to choose the biggest player out there. It was almost like Jaemin was walking around with his own cloud of self-loathing thundering over his head.

He’d thrown himself onto one of the lawn chairs that surrounded the outdoor pool, running a hand over his face. However, he soon froze when he spotted Johnny. The frat member was with Jaehyun and the frat leader, Taeyong. Jaemin noticed the absence of you immediately and it had him springing up from his seat with a slight stumble. Jaemin wasn’t drunk, he was just bordering the line between tipsy and lightly mellow.

Jaemin tapped urgently on Johnny’s shoulder, the older male turning to him with a doped-up smile. Johnny removed the joint from his mouth, offering it out to Jaemin with a hazed blink. “Where’s ____?” Was his immediate response.

Confusion clouded the elder's face for a moment before he laughed loudly. “Man, she’s wasted!” Jaemin gritted his teeth as a bout of smoke wafted in front of his face.

“Yeah, good to know.” He rushed out in exasperation. “Where?” Johnny’s smile dropped as he shrugged.

“Last I knew, she was asleep on the stairs.” Jaemin didn’t wait for any further explanation, bolting it back inside the house and to the sweeping staircase near the front door.

Sure enough, that’s where he found you. Your lips set into an adorable pout from where your head had hung in your slumber. Jaemin was certain that your neck would hurt in the morning if he didn’t take you home. Though, looking at you… Jaemin couldn’t fight the fond chuckle escaping him.

He knelt down at the bottom step, lifting his hand to gently sweep your hair back. His lips pursed as he took in the state of you, fingers tugging your t-shirt dress down your thighs from where it had risen in an attempt to shield your modesty. He squeezed your knee.

“____,” He called to you gently, a hand on your shoulder to lightly shake you awake. “____, c’mon. I’m taking you home.”

A groan left your closed lips, your body attempting to twist to the side as if you were casually rolling over in the comfort of your bed. Jaemin wouldn’t let you, firmly shaking your shoulder again. He sighed in relief when your eyes finally opened, squinting at the light.

“There she is.” He grinned, both hands moving to your cheeks to steady your lolling head.

Jaemin honestly couldn't help but grin in return for the drunk smile you gave him. It was like you were suddenly sprung with energy. “Jaemin!” You launched forward, both arms wrapping tight around his neck.

His hands had to settle on your back to stop you both from toppling over. Your roommate coaxed you to stand, brushing down the crumbs and dirt from your dress. Jaemin made you lean on the wall as he unzipped his hoodie and tied it around your waist.

“Okay, I need you to hold onto my neck… but not strangle me. You got that, ____?” He spoke slowly as if talking to a child because Jaemin had come to realize that’s exactly how drunk you were.

He left you on the second step, crouching down and patting his shoulder. It was embarrassing how many attempts it took to get you securely on Jaemin’s back but eventually, you succeeded in the climb.

The man carried you all the way across the campus and into the blocks of student housing like this. The whole way you were singing at the top of your lungs, Jaemin even joined in when you started singing Twice’s Fancy. He noted you got quieter at the end of your street and when your light snore hit his ear, he knew the reason why.

There was a struggle for him to unlock the front door with you still on Jaemin’s back. Trying not to let the three cats escape was an even bigger feat that Jaemin managed. He also managed to get you off his back, setting you down on your bed. Your shoelaces were already half undone in a loose tangle, Jaemin not having to work very hard to get your shoes and socks off your feet.

The brown-eyed man looked frantically around your room, spotting the cotton pads and micellar water on your desk. Gentle strokes of the cotton pad across your skin removed the smeared makeup on your face. Jaemin was amazed you didn’t wake up, especially when he got to your eyes.

His fingers lingered on your face, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I wish things were different, ____.” Jaemin shook his head with a sigh, dropping the used cotton pads into your trash can and setting them next to your bed.

With a glass of water and some Advil at your bedside, Jaemin gave into temptation and pressed a light, lingering kiss to the top of your head before tucking you in and parting from your bedroom.

“Acts of kindness?” Donghyuck echoed. “If I help her out at the library, does that count?”

“She works at the library?” Your mouth was covered by Donghyuck's palm.

“Don’t announce it to the whole coffee shop, ____!” He hissed, yanking his hand away and shaking it out when he felt something slimy brush across his palm. “Okay, ew.”

“Hm, that’d work, try something a little more meaningful though, Hyuck” Yangyang suggested as he stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta go, botany class starts soon.”

The three of you echoed your goodbyes, turning back to the list on the table once your retreating friend was out of sight.

“So, your crush is one of the librarians?” Jaemin questioned, his face shriveling at his next thought. “Do not sit here and tell me that it’s Mrs. Choi...”

“Gross! No, she has warts on warts.” Hyuck shivered at the very thought of it. “She’s our age.”

Donghyuck could practically see the wheels turning in both of your brains as the two of you tried to work it out. He could also guess when yours and Jaemin’s thought waves seemed to of aligned. He found it slightly freaky how you seemed to have a full conversation with just a look.

“Oh, her.” You nodded your head in approval. “Good choice, Hyuck. She’s a friend of mine, really shy.” You hummed.

“You’re not gonna put in a good word for me, even if I ask… are you?” The man’s shoulders deflated as you shook your head.

“Alright then… What’s after the acts of kindness?”

STEP FOUR: COMPLIMENT TASTEFULLY

Jaemin remembers clearly the day he thought his heart jumped out of his throat and threw itself into the lake.

It was one of the rare occasions that he had invited you to hang out where his friends were - He wouldn’t admit but the only reason he did was that Jeno’s girlfriend was begging at his feet not to be the only girl. So, Jaemin invited you.

His eyes widened at the arctic sleeping bag you pulled from the trunk of your car. “Where did you get that?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “What do you think I used when I used to sleep in my car? Takeout wrappers?” His mouth snapped shut as you unzipped the door to your one-person tent, flinging the sleeping bag inside to deal with later. It was only when you had zipped your tent back up did you turn to him again. “Thanks for building the tent for me.” You beamed at him, your hand patting his shoulder in thanks.

“Thanks for driving all our stuff down here. I didn’t realize we had so much.” He glanced around at the half-set-up camp circle. “I should go and help Jisung-ie.”

The two of you went around separately, helping the group set things up, and come nightfall, the nine of you were crowded around the campfire. Jaemin wasn’t listening too much, the brunette was too preoccupied with the way your eyes shone in the moonlight and how the flame from the fire gave your skin a breath-taking glow. He nudged your side with his elbow subtly.

Jaemin was going to compliment you, he was going to tell you how beautiful you looked out there with nature but the words died on his tongue when you looked at him with your showstopping smile. All he could do was nudge the bag of marshmallows toward you.

There was a multitude of reasons why Jaemin couldn't tell you and reason number one was sat across from you both, staring at him with a pointed look across the dancing heat of the fire. Lee Jeno. Jaemin’s best friend nodded his head firmly in your direction, rolling his eyes when Jaemin just shook his head and broke eye contact.

The whole of the three days camping, Jaemin hadn’t had a minute alone with you. Not even on the drive back, with the other car full - Chenle had borrowed his mom’s six-seater - that left three people, including yourself, in your car. So, you, Jaemin, Renjun, and the luggage were in your little two-door car.

The both of you were relieved when you finally arrived home. As much as Renjun was the best company for a two-hour drive, all he did was complain about how little Donghyuck and Chenle helped pack away. It was nice to just have silence.

You had time for a shower and a nap and Jaemin had time to go through the plethora of photographs he took on the trip. He hadn’t realized he took so many, mostly of you. Jaemin stopped on one he took of you by the lake. You were posed beautifully, unaware of the camera pointed toward you. Your smile beaming, the way the sun encased you made you look almost ethereal. Your arm was lifted, eyes locked in fascination on a baby blue butterfly that landed on your index finger.

That was Jaemin’s favorite by far. He had no idea how long he had been staring at the image on his camera, nearly jumping out of his skin when your voice sounded close to his ear. You’d leaned over the back of the couch to take a look.

“Oh, I didn’t know you even took that.” You marveled.

“Hm, It’s one of my favorites.” He murmured quietly, glancing up to watch as you climbed over the back of the piece of furniture to sit next to him.

“The sun makes me look so cool!” You leaned further over, looking at the image in more detail.

Jaemin shook his head, handing the camera over to you. “Nah, You always look that pretty.” He’d said the sentence without thinking.

A light blush coated the apples of your cheeks. Jaemin hadn’t complimented you like this before, no matter how many times you’d longed to hear something like this from your roommate. Your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. You wondered for a moment if he meant it but when Jaemin didn’t comment any further on the matter you decided not to ask.

“Oh.” You had no idea what to say in response and Jaemin thought your newfound shyness at his compliment was well worth the slip-up.

From then on, Jaemin made sure to give you subtle compliments every so often. Taking personal satisfaction in the color of your cheeks and the shy smiles that would occur.

“And remember, Hyuck. No pickup lines.” Jaemin spoke slowly, hoping that it would get through his friend's head.

Donghyuck hummed in thought before eventually nodding in defeat. “No pickup lines. Not even one.”

Jaemin looked almost proud, giving his friend a light fist bump. “Go through the steps, I need to know you aren’t going to mess this up.”

Hyuck sighed, lifting the list to read out the steps so far. Both you and Jaemin sitting opposite him in anticipation. “Alright, Step one is befriending.” He thought a moment. “So, like, make a connection so we aren’t strangers?” He trailed off on a question, looking to your faces for confirmation.

If your grins were anything to go by, he was doing fine. “Step two is Get to Know.” He took a sip of his coffee, writing a few notes next to the bullet point. “Like, find out her hobbies, places she likes, TV shows, music, food, and maybe things about her family. That sort of thing.” He sounded confident enough with step two that you or Jaemin didn’t make a single comment.

Donghyuck cleared his throat, pausing on step three. “Gestures of kindness?” His confidence wavered. “Can’t we skip any steps?”

“No, No skipping, You got this, Hyuck. Think about it.” Jaemin was awed at the way you gently encouraged his friend. Jaemin and the rest of his friend group usually took the harsher approach, teasing him to no end.

“Alright,” Donghyuck looked visibly in thought for a moment. “Like offering her a ride home or… or staying behind to help her organize the shelves at the library?”

Jaemin hummed, nodding. “Yeah, if you can work out something more solid that would mean more to her then try that. Otherwise, I think that would work. Or bringing her lunch, If you know what she likes.”

“Got it,” Donghyuck scribbled down more notes. “Step four is Compliment Tastefully.” He looked back and forth between you two. “No pickup lines. But, natural?” He tilted his head at the question.

“Yep, Girls love to hear small compliments. About anything.” You offered, “How we’ve painted our nails? Our hair?” You listed off things for him to jot down on the paper, ending with; “Little and often.”

“Thanks, is that it?” Hyuck glanced down at his notepad again, a frown on his face. “None of this includes actually getting the title of boyfriend.”

“No, there are two more steps. The next thing is..”

STEP FIVE: INVITE OUT ( NOT A DATE )

Jaemin fought tooth and nail for these tickets. He had no idea how much they were going to cost nor how many people were biting to attend the event. He remembers when you scrolled through a TikTok of the exact same event but in Paris, beneath the Eiffel Tower.

The way your face lit up when you shoved the phone in his face, rambling about how cool it was. So, when Jaemin caught wind of there being an outdoor cinema on the hill hosted at your very own University campus over the break, he just had to get you there.

But, how would Jaemin get you there without you thinking that he went through so much trouble just to get you a ticket? He thought of telling you that he found them on the ground but that would be ridiculous. There was no way you’d believe that.

Jaemin thought about it the upcoming week of the event, until the day before. You’d entered the apartment, slamming the door behind you much harsher than Jaemin was used to. His head peeked up from over the back of the couch.

“____?” He was met with angry grumbling, and the thudding of your shoes being dropped onto the floor after taking them off. “You okay?”

“Why do people have to be the way that they are?” Your sudden question stunned him for a moment, Jaemin meekly shrugged.

“Good afternoon to you, as well.” He chuckled softly, rising from the couch and rounding the half wall to the kitchen. Already on autopilot to make you a drink.

“I tried to get tickets for Grease In The Park.” Jaemin froze with his hand mid-way in grabbing a glass from the shelf.

“Oh? Really? How did that go?” He cleared his throat to try and curb the nervous waver in his voice.

He glanced over into the living room, seeing you throw yourself onto the couch with a defeated frown on your face. “Someone said they were selling theirs, so I paid way more than I should have for them and they were fake!” You had every right to be pissed, you wasted money that you could be using for gas and next month's car insurance.

Jaemin visibly relaxed out of your eyeline, filling the glass with soda and walking back to set it on the coffee table in front of you. You peered up at his bright, toothy smile, your frown deepening when he laughed softly.

“I don’t see how this is funny, Jaemin.” You grumbled, your foot jutting out to hit the back of his knee. Jaemin only nudged your legs back to perch on the edge of the couch, fingers tugging open one of the drawers in the wooden coffee table.

He produced to you an envelope, raising an eyebrow as he waved it in front of you. “Just go with me.” He stated simply, “Jeno’s now going with his girlfriend. I got a spare ticket.”

He’d never seen you move so fast, snatching the envelope from his hands to peer inside. “Holy shit! You’re not joking? These are real?” You gasped, catching the holographic authenticity sticker on the tickets. “Jaemin, Oh my god!”

Jaemin let out a grunt as he was tackled by you, his back bracing his fall against the cushions. Jaemin stilled for only a moment until he relaxed, his arms winding around your back to gently pat along your spine. “Is that a yes?”

It was and the very next day you were flattening out a picnic blanket under a blossom tree on the hill. The perfect spot to get the best view. If anybody stood up, it wouldn't obstruct your view and it was perfect. You’d insisted that you and Jaemin pack a cooler of snacks and some sandwiches, and much to his surprise you’d packed a Two-ball Screwball each.

Jaemin honestly couldn’t recall the plot of the movie, you were amazed he had never seen Grease before. Even after watching it underneath the blossom tree in the greenery behind the University's main building, Jaemin couldn’t recite the storyline. All Jaemin could remember was watching you with stars in your eyes as you belted out the lyrics to nearly every song.

As the fading notes to You’re The One That I Want got quieter, you turned to him. Jaemin loved you like this, unapologetically you. Cheeks red from the excitement and singing, eyes wide and wondrous in the nature's air. And then you floored him, leaning over to press a meaningful kiss to his cheek.

His lips parted in surprise, his own giddy smile widening as you pulled back an inch to look at him. “Thanks, Jaemin.” You whispered between you. “This has been the best movie theatre experience ever.” and with that, you tugged the spare blanket around the both of you, naturally hugging into Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin complained before about the effort to get the tickets but in that moment he vowed that he would do it again ten times over just to relive this moment.

“You’ve got to make it sentimental. Somewhere she’s always wanted to go but don’t overdo it.” Jaemin pointed at Hyuck in a warning.

“Don’t overdo it? How much do you think this place pays me?” He snorted, gesturing to the coffee shop the three of them had been sitting in since Hyuck’s shift ended two hours ago.

“They’d probably pay you more if you did your job and stopped giving us free coffee.” You shrugged, poking at Donghyuck’s shoulder.

“I’m not even on shift right now!” Donghyuck protested, slapping his hand down on the table. “Do you really want me to start charging you for coffee?”

Jaemin’s lips tugged into a fond smile, letting his friends argue as he slid the paper and pen back toward himself to write the final two steps. He stared at it for a few moments, glancing up at you only once before nodding his head and flipping the paper face down.

Your playful stint with Donghyuck ended as Jaemin stood from his seat, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve written the last two steps down.” He began, avoiding your eyes. “I got class in fifteen.”

Jaemin swiftly left you both sitting there, Hyuck already scrolling on his phone when you nudged him. “Aren’t you going to look at step six and seven?” You nudged the paper toward him.

“Eh, read ‘em to me.” Donghyuck shrugged, glancing up at you from his game.

You rolled your eyes, reaching over for the paper. You flipped it over, skimming over the last two steps. Your heart stilled, your body seizing in shock as your brain caught up.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot.” You whispered, Donghyuck finally glancing over to you.

“I could have told you that, but why?” His head shoved into your eyeline to look at the paper.

‘STEP SIX: WAIT FOR HER TO NOTICE’

“So? Why are you an idiot?” He looked puzzled, eyeing your frozen form carefully.

“Look at this list,” You wave it almost frantically. “Jaemin has done every single one of these things for me.”

“Oh, Yeah. That’s cause he’s in love with you.” Your friend said casually, your head snapping in his direction.

“What?” You choked in disbelief, dropping the list to the table once more.

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught on yet,” Hyuck laughed, “Kinda tragic if you ask me, unrequited love and all.” He yelped when he received a smack to the forearm.

“It’s not unrequited!” It was almost comical how his eyes widened at your exclamation.

“Then go and find him, look at step seven.”

STEP SEVEN: CONFESS

You left the coffee shop in a clumsy mess, nearly headbutting the door on your way out. Honestly, you were beating yourself up over this. Just how long had you been tiptoeing around each other like this? How long had Jaemin been waiting for you to notice?

Of course, there were some intrusive thoughts shoved into the chaos of your mind. Like; What if you were overlooking this? What if Hyuck was lying? What if Jaemin had gotten bored of waiting for you and moved on already?

You skidded to a stop at your front door, suddenly remembering he wasn’t home. Jaemin was in class for at least two hours and you’d just run all the way back to the apartment to confess to him. However, with one whiff of your body, whilst taking your shoes off, you were glad he wasn’t home yet. It allowed you to shower, do your hair, and spritz some of your favorite perfume over yourself.

When Jaemin arrived home, he found you pacing the length of the living room. He wondered if you’d wear the carpet out at this rate. “Did Hyuck understand the last two points okay?” The question hung in the air as he straightened from removing his shoes.

Jaemin knew that this was make or break. You either caught on to his subliminal message or it went right over your head and he would have to revoke the entire list. Though, the look you gave him at that moment said you understood very well.

“How long?” Your voice was a mere whisper, fingers tangling amongst themselves as your feet came to a stop at the end of the couch.

Silence. Jaemin said nothing, his backpack falling from his shoulder to make a dull sound on the carpet. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, Jaemin was having trouble reading your expression. He wasn’t sure if the tears that were overspilling your eyes were a good thing or not. His teeth bit into his cheek.

“Jaemin, how long?” You moved in closer, your voice was desperate.

“A… a while.” He mumbled. “Too long,” He shook his head, suddenly finding the stain on the carpet much more interesting than the tears that spelled the pain on your face.

You sniffled, closing the gap between you to gently cup his cheeks with your palms and lift his gaze back onto yours. Jaemin caved, leaning into your loving touch with eyes fluttering closed. Warm hands cupped over your own.

“Please,” You’d never heard such vulnerability in Jaemin’s voice. “Let me down gently, ____.”

Jaemin’s eyes opened slowly, already feeling the numbness of rejection seep into his bones. But, you just shook your head with a watery smile. It made him hurt more, his first thought wondering if you were intentionally going to make him suffer for this.

“Oh, Jaem, I don’t plan to let you down at all.” Your whispered words were like a wash of color in skies of grey.

Jaemin’s breath of relief relaxed his shoulders and he wasted no time in connecting your lips. His kiss was gentle, surprisingly so for how long he had been waiting for you. Your lips were soft and he could taste the remanence of the drink you’d had earlier. Your lips slotted over Jaemin’s like they were made to be there, like a missing puzzle piece. It felt right.

It was you who pulled away first, slowly opening your eyes to smile shyly at him. “I love you, Jaemin.”

“I love you, ____”

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